THE CARIBBEAN: ONE
r AND DIVISIBLE
Jéan Casimir
/
ÍMTKD
NATIONS
IliilllllH
*003600007*
Cuadernos de la CEP AL, N" 66, C.2
(inglés)
• APR ü
LC/G.1641-P
November 1992
The views expressed in this work are the sole responsibilitity of the author and do not
necessarily coincide with those of the Organization.
Translated from French. Original title "La Caraibe: une et divisible"
UNITED NATIONS PUBLICATION
Sales No. E.92.n.G.13
ISSN 0252-2195
ISBN 92-1-121181-6
CUADERNOS DE LA CEPAL
THE CARIBBEAN: ONE
AND DIVISIBLE
Jean Casimir
UNITED NATIONS
ECONOMIC COMMISSION FOR LATIN AMERICA AND THE CARIBBEAN
Santiago, Chile, 1992
CONTENTS
Page
Chapter
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
1 : INTRODUCTION
A rationale to be discovered
Toward a form of social development
An unpredictable future
Social groups and categories
Dualism and legitimization of power
Plan of the study
7
7
11
17
20
24
26
Chapter 2 : THE CREOLES
1. A new definition
2. African-born (bossale) or creolized person
3. The Creole or freedraan
4. Creoles in the Caribbean and Latin America
29
29
32
38
43
Chapter 3 : THE FREEDMEN
1. A new social category
2. Piecework
3. Trade unions and politics
4. Migration and creolization
5. The reproduction of the bossale
6. Freedmen and the political impasse
47
47
49
54
58
60
63
Chapter 4 . THE CARIBBEAN REGIONS
1. Introduction
2. The Caribbean of the plantations
3. The paradoxical consequence of colonialism
4. The colonial city
5. The endogenous Caribbean space
67
67
68
76
81
86
Page
Chapter 5 : THE MAKING OF THE NATIONS
1. Introduction
2. Consensus and inequality
3. ApréBondié, c'estlate
93
93
96
105
Chapter 6 : ECONOMIES WITHOUT MARKETS
1. Introduction
2. Caribbean poverty
3. Planters and the market
4. The freedmen and the market
5. The State and the market
121
121
122
129
133
138
Chapter 7 : DISCOURSE AND DEVELOPMENT
1. Introduction
2. Culture and intervention
3. Fragments of the metropolises
4. Social structure and mobility
5. Civil societies
6. Conclusion
143
143
146
149
155
162
167
Chapter 8 : CULTURE AND POWER
1. Social categories
2. Cultural dynamics
3. The governors and the governed
4. The governed become part of the government:
the planters
5. The governed become part of the government:
the freedmen
6. Power and creolization
7. Toward a new social contract
171
172
174
178
NOTES
193
180
184
186
189
Chapter 1
INTRODUCTION
1. A rationale to be discovered
From 1492 to the present, the population of the Caribbean has largely been
comprised of indentured labourers, enslaved and rural or urban workers,
living and toiling under conditions invariably below the living standards of
the countries that colonized the region. In the beginning of the colonization
period, the destitute population seemed to regard this new world as a
veritable hell on earth. In his book From Columbus to Castro: the History
of the Caribbean, Eric Williams recalls that:
Barbados, a word of terror to the white servant, became to the
Negro, as a slave trader wrote in 1693, "a more dreadful
apprehension... than we can have of hell".^
Anyone interested in Caribbean development must wonder how the idea
of a nation emerged in this region, together with the related notion of a
heritage which the society as a whole should strive to preserve and enrich,
in short, to develop. At first, the objective of the struggles and revolts of the
enslaved was not to defend a particular territory but rather to establish a
certain kind of relationship between people, in other words, the conquest of
freedom without any reference to a specific geographical area.
In another part of his book, Williams relates that in June 1838 the
General Assembly of Jamaica protested against the abolition of slavery
decreed by Great Britain, on the grounds that the Jamaicans belonged to a
different nation:
It is unreasonable and unnatural that one nation should assume
to pass laws to bind another nation, of whose customs, wants,
constitution and physical advantages and disadvantages, she is,
and must be, profoundly ignorant...^
Throughout the region, plantation owners adopted a similar position
whenever the metropolitan edicts ran counter to what they considered to be
their interest. It would therefore be useful to determine what constituted this
"nation" which claimed to own the wealth that gradually became its
common patrimony.
Account must be taken, not only of the groups which belonged to this
social body and of those that were excluded from it, but also of the
institutions that either united or divided these groups. What aspects of the
concept of nation-State were retained by plantation owners and social
groups that succeeded them at the apex of Caribbean societies over the
course of the various phases of the region's history?
Contrary to the separatist behaviour of these dominant groups, the
enslaved groups seemed to display a certain degree of loyalty to the
metropolises when these showed more benevolence than the planters and
suceeding dominant social groups. The rebellious enslaved in Saint Lucia,
Saint Domingue, Guadeloupe and Dominica who rallied to the cause of the
temporarily anti-slavery French Republic provide clear examples of this
loyalty.
However, if the plantation owners had no hesitation in distancing
themselves from the metropolises when they felt that their rights and
privileges were being threatened, it would certainly be reasonable to
conclude that the enslaved and their descendants did not really identify with
the mother countries that had been thrust upon them. The manifestations of
loyalty on the part of the enslaved, who were all immigrants or descendants
of immigrants, bear scant resemblance to the manifestations of membership
in a primary group.
There is also the question of how to establish a connection between, on
the one hand, the contributions of the maroons, freed slaves and poor whites
to the notion of an entity distinct from that of the colonial powers and, on
the other, the divergent positions of the planters and the enslaved. No
analysis of Caribbean development is possible without a set of hypotheses
on how the national families in the region came to be formed. And since
these analyses exist, they must be re-examined in the light of their implicit
assumptions.
It would be impossible to describe the rationale behind the attitude of
Caribbean societies and the social groups that comprise them using only
current concepts and without taking into account the special circumstances
of the formation of those societies. Among other fundamental problems, it
is virtually impossible to grasp the subtle difference that exists in the region
between opposition to colonialism and rupture with the colonial State.
During the nineteenth century, efforts to break away from one
metropolis were usually aimed at entering thesphereof influence of another,
R
and not at creating an independent State. While the situation today has of
course changed, Caribbean societies are no closer to a common vision in
which independence is valued above all else.
Certain populations oppose colonialism while correctly refusing
independence. Their argument is that the attainment of political rights is not
necessarily accompanied by greater respect for civil liberties, or greater
economic security.
Our intention is not merely to point out that foreign powers sometimes
exploit this position for their own ends. Nor can we accuse any historical
figures, certain contemporary leaders or the populations concerned of not
having the same level of social consciousness as the rest of the world. It is
important to understand why, from the point of view both of the dominant
and of the subordinate groups of several countries of the region, this position
is perfectly logical.
Before making such value judgements there is one essential step to be
taken which may even render them superfluous. One must be able to explain
the collective decisions and choices of the peoples living in the Caribbean.
There again, emphasis will perhaps have to be placed on the quality of the
relationships between people and concomitantly on the absence of any
material wealth to be defended.
In the Caribbean, the concepts of country, nation and State do not
correspond to those held in other regions of the world. The genesis of the
sense of belonging to its specific societies, the development of this sense of
belonging, the elements which define the national identities and the point
of convergence of individuals who identify themselves in this way are
unanswered questions, and some attempt should be made to find an answer
to them.
There are a number of corollaries to the questions about the
characteristics of the heritage -material and spiritual- of the region's
peoples. The considerations mentioned above raise doubts as to whether the
"national economies" of the Caribbean will have the same characteristics
as those of the peoples who "possess" material resources and who have a
tradition of defending and developing these resources.
In the absence of a common heritage, how should political boundaries
be perceived and how does political authority become established to
administer what these boundaries should be protecting? How can laws of
economic development be imposed and enforced? To what tangible reality
should these laws refer? In other words, it must not be assumed that the
nation-State -as it is conceived of in the West- must necessarily succeed
the type of colonial State which the Caribbean has known.
On the one hand, the very idea of a colony established for the purpose
of exploitation -into which category the Caribbean colonies fall-, as
opposed to a colony established for the purpose of settlement, presupposes
the absence of an economy and of interests that have validity outside of that
which is conferred by the metropolis. On the other hand, the perception of
the act of colonization implies the recognition of two different nationalities.
If there were no necessary link between the nation and the nation-State,
then the problem would be resolved. The colonial State would simply
convert its colonies into overseas departments and destroy the nations living
there. The main obstacle would be how to get rid of the historical and
cultural memory of these nations.
What is more, nation-States^ do exist in the Caribbean. This reality
cannot be defined other than within the framework of the international
political system. The assimilation of the formeriy exploited colonies by the
metropolises would also entail the negation of the demonstration effects of
the international system.
Should there then be any doubt as to whether a Caribbean-style
nation-State should have a national economy? Or should a type of national
economy be sought that would be suited to the States that arise out of the
colonization of the Caribbean?
Providing the inhabitants and specific groups and village communities
of the Caribbean with any kind of material wealth, together with the means
of defending it, does not seem to be an easy goal to attain in the foreseeable
future. This, however, is precisely the objective of national development
policies.
It is difficult to conceive of how, in a market system of open
competition, those who are completely destitute could prevail over those
who own everything. It is, moreover, difficult to imagine how, in this age
of multinational corporations, it will be possible to promote the
administrators of marginal resources to the role of relevant economic actors.
This difficulty can perhaps explain why nowadays one often hears
-because few people dare to write it- that the States and economies of the
Caribbean are not viable and that this is so because they do not conform to
a European models of nationhood.
Europe seized a region and implanted a population there which it
controlled to serve European interests. Since these populations could not
duplicate a European world, because they lacked European concepts for
planning the trajectory of their own development, the idea took hold to deny
them the prerogatives and privileges which enabled Europeans themselves
to organize and control their environment. It is not known whether this was
10
due to ethnocentricity on the latter's part or simply to the low level of
scientific research or to both of these.
An analysis of the logical congruence of the concepts on which the
social sciences are based would probably be valuable, especially if it skirts
the dangers of Eurocentrism. Since the rationale of development in the
territories of the Caribbean and in the region as a whole is not the same as
that of other countries and regions of the world, the question must be asked
whether, in the future, these populations can or should develop in the same
way as the other nations of the Western world. The response to that question
should attempt to point to the direction in which their future would be
oriented and would also perhaps, identify the types of social actors
adequately equipped to put them on therightpath.
The present study adopts a different approach. It attempts to describe
the developmental logic of the region, in other words, to understand why
its nationalism does not necessarily mean a break with the metropolises. It
also seeks to define those social dimension where some measure of
distancing vis-á-vis the Western powers has been taken.
Before speaking of either development or what it is that should be
developed, one should possess greater understanding of the nature of the
former, and the interrelationships among its constituent elements. The aim
here is not to define how the Caribbean will or should be developed, but
rather to comprehend how the role played by the region in the world system
affects the relationships between the social groups within its societies. There
is a rationale to be discovered, as will be shown in the following chapters.
2. Toward a form of social development
It would be unwise, in the Caribbean context, to hastily apply the principles
and techniques of social planning which have been tried and tested in other
countries of the world. It would be even more unwise to embark upon large
numbers of socially-oriented development projects without the elaboration
of a model describing the functioning of those societies.
If there is to be a sustainable improvement in the living standards of the
population, then a system of analysis reflecting the social customs and habits
of the region must first be developed to serve as the basis for the elaboration
of a formula to optimize investments in the social sectors.
In his book Elusive Development^ Marshall Wolfe describes the
experience of the United Nations, and in particular the Economic
Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean, in promoting
development. He shows how the official thinking of the Organization was
11
originally moulded by economists and how social considerations were
introduced on different and not always compatible grounds. According to
Wolfe, the best result in developmental programmes were obtained in those
areas where governments and the United Nations together defined what
development slíOMWí>e and issued declarations protecting the economic and
social rights of nations, thus setting new quantifiable standards of
development.
If we accept the statistics used by these same governments and the
United Nations Secretariat, we should not be surprised at the frequent
assertions that these new standard-setting declarations remain moot. Even
though they may not have helped to raise the living standards of the
underdeveloped populations as high as one might have wished, they still do
not deserve to be judged so harshly.
Progress in defining the rights of nations to develop has been
accompanied by advances in the popular perception of these rights.
Development today thus constitutes an aspiration widely shared by
underdeveloped populations particularly those of the Caribbean.
The problem still to be resolved however is that of the group or sector
of those populations affected by aspirations toward development. Despite
the apparent paradox, the question must also be asked whether this frantic
search for development contributes to the achievement of any kind of
substantive development.
Moreover, the rhetoric of the rich nations, particularly that of the
United States of America which sometimes makes the granting of its
financial aid contingent upon respect for individual freedoms has an
impact which must not be underestimated. Whether or not this rhetoric
succeeds in modifying the behaviour of despotic regimes, it does, in any
case, "develop" and delimit the frame of reference of the population
concerned, modifying its perception as to what is possible, feasible and
even available.
Since Christopher Columbus landed in the Caribbean, the peoples of
these lands have seen their dreams of freedom and respect for human rights
generally fade. While the conditions of economic and social development
of the nations have hardly changed in spite of the increasing congruence
between these solemn declarations and the profound aspirations of the
populations, the latter's rightful claims are gaining more and more impact
on political decisions.
The age-old clamour for change in the nature of interpersonal
relationships seems at last to have struck a responsive chord in the
metropolises. Certain rules of the game must be changed in order to ensure
12
that economic development is accompanied by the exercise of individual
freedoms.
While the official ideology of development emphasizes the right to
progress which a rational effort undertaken over a given period of time
should achieve for the nation-State, for the island societies of the Caribbean,
the image of the future is endowed of a sort of contemporaneousness. It is
accessible and within reach and not at the end of an arduous time consuming
process which may not necessarily result in success.
The period of transition from one stage of social development to another
is reflected in the disparities among the different societies. A gestation
period for social transf^ormation no longer seems necessary, and the effort
of the society as a whole towards greater well-being is no longer the only
way to achieve progress. The island society, stripped of its collective
material heritage, may be excused for not considering the development of
a non-existent heritage as a reasonable alternative.
In formulating and disseminating development standards and values,
governments and the United Nations are unwittingly helping to destroy the
frame of reference which they used in elaborating their principles. The State,
in its known political structures, has ceased to be for the population -if
indeed it ever was- a social actor that must be pressured into better reflecting
the aspirations of the national community.
In the best of cases, the endogenous transformation of the political and
economic systems have become one of the ways of improving life-styles.
Ever increasing groups of individuals managed to satisfy their individual
aspirations by emigrating to the rich societies, where respect for human
rights guarantees a minimum standard of treatment superior to living
conditions in their own countries.
Wolfe doubts whether all the nation-States can take the steps needed for
their development, as the concept is defined in official and international circles.
One may add that the principal economic theories need to take into account the
unpleasant realities of everyday life; they must draw, in one form or another,
on popular concepts and must be attuned to the modes of behaviour and to the
systems of thought which are responsible for such behaviour. One of the tasks
of a scientific discipline of social development would be to help to ensure that
the perception of the nation-State which is in widespread use in
macro-economics as a unit of analysis is taken into account.
In everyday life, Wolfe continues, the concept of development refers to
an overall process of social transformation, i.e., the evolution of numerous
interdependent phenomena. The concept also suggests a goal, a collective
aspiration to a more acceptable state of affairs.
13
A systematic effort toward development involves making a proposal
for a kind of ideal society. There is need for a utopia.
'Development' responding to the minimum criterion of
enhancement of the capacity of the society to function over the long
term for the well-being of all its members requires far-reaching
changes in the ways in which people relate to each other and to the
wider society, represented by the State. Ideally, these changes
should be in the direction of a more open, better integrated society,
with freer choices and opportunities for voluntary associational ties
and voice for all in the composition and policy guidance of local as
well as national authorities.'*
A rational strategy must therefore be proposed for attaining this
standard-setting model, and consideration given, of course, to the actors and
to the socio-political groups and forces which will execute this strategy.
These three stages of a steady advance towards development -which in fact
constitute development planning- derive from two factors mentioned in the
paragraph above, namely, knowledge of the social fabric and of its particular
evolution and knowledge of the goals of the society as a whole.
The present study describes the evolution of the social structures of the
Caribbean and points to the existence of a dual process of formulating social
objectives: the creóle way of thinking and the local way of thinking. As will
be seen from the arguments presented below, it has been impossible to
formulate a development plan that does not prolong colonial
authoritarianism because the political leaders of the day have had to choose
between one or the other set of objectives.
In fact, there has been no such choice, as will be seen, because the fact
that there is a local way of thinking has not been perceived. Because of this,
authoritarianism has not always been sentient.
The "common" objectives supposedly pursued through economic
planning are not those of the society as a whole. Since this is not understood,
the methods of planning are blamed for the scant progress made in the
implementation of development plans and programmes.
At the same time, negotiations conducted at different paces and
according to different rules, produce another set of objectives which the
population seeks to attain without any reference to the authorities.
The co-existence of a dual set of social objectives frustrates the most
well-intentioned planning efforts. Survival strategies become
institutionalized and the official policies are either disregarded or are
unknown. The "social sectors" planner encounters an insuperable resistance
to participation by the popular sector.
14
In determining the social objectives on which the planning process
should focus, there is one pitfall which must be avoided. On re-reading
Marshall Wolfe's definition of social development one discovers that it
refers to the formal mechanisms of a society's operation and not to the
content of the goals to be achieved.
It is not the growh of investment in the areas of education, social security
or public health that should be optimized. What is important is the
decision-making mechanism: the informed participation of all sectors
affected by a given decision and not the decision per se.
Social development fails within the ambit of relations among
individuals and between those individuals and the society at large. In every
country, Wolfe points out, and particularly in those whose leaders take
development objectives seriously and share the population's sense of
urgency, the limitations of the lines of communication between the masses
and the governments are a cause for concern.
In the Caribbean, social development is the ever-increasing efficacy of
organized collective dialogue. Whether the society is characterized by two
or more cultures, or by two or more sets of social objectives, it is essential
to avoid the unilateral imposition of a single choice and to reach agreement
through negotiations.
Social development is less concerned with the tasks undertaken by the
society than with the way in which it sets about implementing them.
Planning should therefore be concerned with the ways and means in which
the entire society can participate in the control of its everyday existence.
Just as in real life one does not converse about just anything at any time
or place and with anyone, social development planning should identify the
most appropriate time, place and vehicle for negotiating those problems
which the society as a whole deems important. It should ensure that even
the remotest comers of a given country are kept informed of existing needs
and of available local and national resources.
Social development planning is the architecture of a communication
process, a discipline which describes the instruments and systems of
communication among institutions, social groups, voluntary associations
and pressure or interest groups. Its goal is to ensure a constant flow of
information and ideas for decision-making at all levels.
The task is, of course, monumental and, when viewed from another
angle, must be sub-divided. Although it draws on the theories that regard
culture as a system of ideas, social development planning leaves the
substantive problem of the value of ideas to the philosophers and moralists
found among all social scientists, and focuses on the formal aspects of social
relationships. It thereby recognizes the inherent rights of all human groups
to express and defend their views.
We would have liked to suggest a practical method that would gradually
lead to forms of social cohesion which could buttress the efforts of
governments in their struggle against underdevelopment. Unfortunately, the
styles of government put into place by the colonial regimes and their
authoritarian monologues require that a preliminary step be taken, and this
is the subject of the present work.
The Caribbean States today are in the position of having to legitimize
new power structures and establish new relationships with local civilian
society. The aim of the study that follows is to describe the differences
in the systems of thought of nations as tiny as those of the region, as well
as the shortcomings of the current form of social cohesion. The study
will show how this imperfect cohesion permits a dialogue between the
governors and the governed, which helps to facilitate the participation
of the former metropolises in these family conversations but does not
ensure the participation in this dialogue by all the members of these
families. This form of cohesion has an adverse effect on the
legitimization of the political authority and thus constitutes an obstacle
to development planning.
We shall try to describe how cleavages are perpetuated in the criteria
of knowledge and judgement, how these cleavages are reflected in local and
regional socioeconomic organization, how they are aggravated by the
international system and how they lead to an impasse in the art of governing
the region. We shall also describe the methods used to overcome this
difficulty.
We are convinced that this methodological approach is consistent with
the structural changes now taking place, just as the traditional approach to
social planning -by social sectors- runs counter to observable trends.
Because the governments and States of the Caribbean need to be
legitimized, social development planning must, in the present
circumstances, aim first of all to accelerate the process of identifying local
ways of thinking.
Once this has been done, attention could then be turned to the
formulation of a social strategy that is adapted to the region. The present
study does not set out to accomplish this task and certainly does not attempt
to identify the social actors capable of undertaking it. Despite our basic
concern, which is the problem of social development in the Caribbean, we
feel that, given our present level of knowledge, we should first of all trace
the social evolution of the region and establish its specific features.
16
If this approach is satisfactory, it would then be appropriate to discuss
the method of intervention in a process that is underway. Failing this, it will
be necessary to re-examine the evolution of these social systems in order to
devise another strategy of intervention.
3. An unpredictable future
Colonialism and colonization (meaning settlement) are two distinct
realities. The colonized societies were not constructed on the basis of a
network of institutions responsible for regulating and determining the
interests of the populations concerned. The configuration of their social
groups reflects the implementation by brute force of a metropolitan project.
Even granting that coercion is now increasingly used as a last resort, the
fact of its imposition remains, although the manner in which it is
implemented may have become more sophisticated.
Policy in the metropolis naturally emerges from a range of possible
options which are generally, though not necessarily, shaped by economic
considerations. In contrast, the economy of a colony or former colony is a
function of the options permitted or tolerated by the policy of the metropolis.
Here political considerations determine economic policy.
The colonized groups and societies of the Caribbean cannot explicitly
formulate and pursue overall objectives that are different from those of their
metropolises. As long as the population is not in a position to rid itself of
its colonizers, it can only express its aims and objectives within the
framework imposed upon it. The history of the official institutions merely
reflects this deployment of the metropolitan society and the "dissemination"
of its culture.
A colonial rhetoric exists which the colonized themselves may
sometimes engage in. This rhetoric, however, does not embrace the totality
of their social objectives. The possible choices that remain outside the
purview of colonialism are singled out for attention by official institutions
in their efforts to remove them. The colonizer sees only the reverse side of
the choice, since the true choice is apparent only upon careful examination.
This counter-history, an unwritten one, is in fact the pre-history of the
modern Caribbean. In order to describe it accurately, emphasis should be
placed on the methodological risks inherent in a scientific approach which
seems to run counter to patterns of deliberate behaviour.
The phenomena observed at a given period of the history of the
Caribbean are not identifiable at their point of origin. Official rhetoric
clouds them. In a colonized milieu more than anywhere else, social
17
phenomena do not reflect the entire reality. A sociological reading of the
region's history must often be done backwards, from the present to the past.
It is in the results of social behaviour, not in their most obvious intentions
and goals, that one perceives the elements that influence the processes of
social change.
This problem was particularly evident during the transition from the
period of enslavement to the contemporary period. If the merits of this
argument can be demonstrated, proof will have been given as to why the
knowledge needed for describing the main features of a future society do
not seem to be available today. At the same time, it will become clear why
the proposal is to develop a discipline of social planning that is limited to
the formal characteristics of the future societies.
Let us look at two periods: first the eighteenth century, then the
nineteenth. Let us suppose that, in this society under formation, there are
during the first period three social groups: a) the enslaved, b) the
planters, and c) the administrators of the colony. During the second period,
the respective groups are: a) agricultural workers, peasants and
sharecroppers, b) large landowners, and c) the colonial administration
or, in the case of Haiti for example, a national administration. Note that at
the point where the two periods merge, each of these groups may be
comprised of the same physical persons.
After England ended the slave trade, the enslaved bom in the colonies
tended to constitute the majority of the population. An analysis of the eighteenth
century would lead to the assumption that the creóle enslaved were the persons
most socialized or adapted to the plantation economy. However, a study of the
nineteenth century immediately casts doubts on this assumption.
What was it that suggested to the creóle slaves that there were
advantages to peasant multi-crop agriculture? Why were indentured
labourers preferred to creóle workers? The rationale of the behaviour of
Creole slaves does not shed any light on why a peasant class developed or
on the attitude of agricultural workers.
Any study of the eighteenth century must include an analysis of the
processes of adaptation (seasoning), socialization or acculturation of the
enslaved. However, the key to understand these behaviour patterns is to be
found in the nineteenth century, where it is evident that the acquisition of
the traits of docility recorded by witnesses of the previous period was a mere
figment of the imagination and not a characteristic peculiar to a certain type
of enslaved.
The study of the nineteenth century forces us to reformulate the ideas
which had been based on observation of the eighteenth century. The
18
individual referred to as a slave in eighteenth-century documents and
according to the vocabulary in current use -i.e., according to the ideological
barrage- is really a prisoner or enslaved person, that is, someone whom the
system must relentlessly force to obey.
The nature of the system is itself explained by this distinction between
the slave and the enslaved person, a distinction which explains the constant
presence of forces of repression and the participation of the planters and
their representatives in the violence organized against the enslaved.
It becomes clear that, like the bossale,^ the enslaved creóle, despite his
apparent submission, did not share the social philosophy of slavery. The
planters, despite their declarations to the contrary or the documents that they
have left behind, knew this full well.
The Creole was different from the bossale only to the extent that he had
a better understanding of the rules of the game, and not to the extent that he
accepted these rules and the reasons for their existence. In the case of those
enslaved persons who adapted best to the colonial situation, such as
Toussaint Louverture, the true depths of their thought were never expressed
except in exceptionally favourable circumstances. The viability of such
behaviour was determined by the above-mentioned circumstances and not
by their internal logic.
The fact that the chronology of social phenomena must be reversed in
order to better ujnderstand them casts doubt on the usefulness of social
development plans based on the manifest objectives of the population. This
leads us to adopt another methodological approach for the study of the
region's societies.
The transition from the position of an enslaved person to that of a
peasant implies a complete refashioning of the matrix of social relations. In
the colonial society, it is this matrix that creates the social categories,^ not
the mutual relationships among the different categories which determine
the characteristics of the social matrix.
In the Caribbean, the matrix is laid down by the metropolitan powers.
It is they that create the categories of planter, enslaved and colonial
administration. The relationships among these categories are diverse and
played a determining role in colonial life. Far from allowing the colony to
evolve from one stage of development to another however, the relationships
between these categories aimed at preserving its exploitation system. To
repeat a traditional distinction, the aim is the growth of the system not its
development.
When the metropolitan countries change -when they industrialize and
discover other areas in which to operate- another matrix is created in the
19
Caribbean, and the components of the original matrix are replaced. The
planter could then become a manufacturer and the slave a wage-earning
worker. The choice of becoming an entrepreneur or a rentier, a tenant farmer
or an agricultural worker was not one that was available to the former planter
or the former slave.
A macro-sociological reading of colonial history is therefore done ex
post and cannot claim to identify the "necessary" stages of development.
There are no broad outlines of any future development.
The metropolitan powers that devised these social categories and forced
them upon the colonies are themselves governed by different systems of
relationships unconnected with colonial social life. The rationale for this
difference may be self evident, but the point here is that, by definition,
development in colonized societies is not an immediate result of
endogenous transformation.
In independent countries, the goals formulated by the majority of the
people in the society will have meaning for social development planning
only when the groupings involved are sufficiently informed of the
international trends that are likely to modify their everyday life. In other
words, this will only be possible if all the barriers to the free circulation of
information are removed. The main task at hand, meanwhile, is precisely
to destroy these barriers.
4. Social groups and categories
It is suggested that the social objectives leading to the formation of a peasant
class cannot be inferred from the manifest behaviour of the creóle slave. It
is also claimed that, in a sense, the metropolis "created" the slave and
peasant categories. In these two sentences, the terms "slaves" and
"peasants" do not refer to the same social groups.
In a number of countries, the year 1838 marked the disappearance of
the slaves as a significant social category and heralded the birth of the
peasant class. Whether a person wished to or not, he or she could not remain
a slave after emancipation. Moreover, from that year on, it was forbidden
to procure and maintain a group of enslaved persons on the plantations.
Prior to emancipation, a small number of persons who might be termed
peasants existed. However, there was no peasant class as such or even
historical actor referred to as a peasant whose presence could have been felt
within the society prior to general emancipation.
At a basic level of analysis, the social category of slave or peasant was
a creation of the legislative system which assigned a role to this category
20
defining its duties and obligations within the framework of the institutions
required for the proper functioning of the plantation society.
These social categories constituted the instruments to implement the
colonial project of society and were instituted without regard for the
attitudes, aspirations and performance of the individuals to whom the
various roles were assigned.
On a second and deeper level of analysis, the members of one social
category formed various groupings and maintained interpersonal
relationships that corresponded to a range of given choices. The
establishment of such groupings was determined in a large measure by
fortuitous encounters between individuals.^
The grouping of individuals depended on their activities, attitudes and
aspirations. A group always arrived independently at its decisions.
The possibility of maintaining interpersonal relationships within a
normative framework imposed from outside rendered the future of the
region's societies even more unpredictable. The value systems of the first
groups of African adults were different from the canons that defined the
category to which they belonged. We believe that these differences were
perpetuated despite and even within the process of creolization.
The metropolitan laws applicable to the colony, for example, prevented
the slaves from constituting families -as defined by those very laws. The
father, mother or children could be sold separately or together depending
on their master's needs.
In reality, the enslaved were not necessarily sold; their daily life on a
sugar island like Barbados was not the same as that of their counterparts in
Dominica or Curasao. Many families were formed despite the more or less
standard legal provisions. Obviously such families did not correspond to
the European conception of that institution, but rather to purely local
circumstances, which were reordered according to the value systems
inherited from Africa. Thus an indigenous family model ended up being
institutionalized side by side with the official model.
Duality emerged out of the asymmetrical relationship between the
metropolis and its citizens and, the colony and the colonized. In the daily
and private life as it existed in the colony appeared the first divisions
separating the Europeans and their representatives from the local
population.^
When research is conducted with a view to determining the overall
evolution of a society, rarely does it examine the different patterns of social
behaviour. Both the modes of behaviour prescribed by the official
institutions and the development of interpersonal relationships must be
21
considered at one and the same time. It is in the contrast between the legal
prescriptions and the actual patterns of behaviour that the dynamics of the
colonial societies lie.
Although the dynamics of a colony were subordinated to those of the
metropolis, which created and sustained its static social categories, the
history and evolution of the colonized society did not depend on the history
and evolution of the metropolis.
Within the second level of analysis referred to previously, it is no longer
the evolution of the main social categories, but the interchange between
individuals and the creation of networks of interrelationships that claim
one's attention. The specificity of the Caribbean as a region and the
specificity of the individual countries that comprise it were a function of
this interrelationship between the social categories that were sanctioned and
given legitimacy by the colonial power and the forms of social interaction
outside of the dominant system.
In Guyana, as elsewhere in the Caribbean, the integration of the slaves
into "one moral community", to use Durkheim's phrase, took place
outside the social, cultural and organizational framework of the
plantation. This new society which developed outside and around the
plantations was based partly upon the slowly evolving system of
non-slave relations and partly upon developments forced upon the
planter-dominated colonies by Britain.^
A new world developed parallel to that of the colonial society. It may
be regarded as a counter-plantation system. Its emergence was not painless.
It was the result, both necessary and unexpected, of colonialism. The seeds
of new and specific nationalities and cultures took root there. Relationships
and particularities developed that were capable of defying the policies of
the metropolis, wherever the conditions for doing so were present.
Once social categories are institutionalized, their behaviour is governed
by legal prescriptions and generalizations can easily be made about it. The
decisions of social groups vary according to circumstances and are
susceptible to error and to successive modifications.
Social categories and groups of individuals are concepts that are used
frequently and imprecisely in many texts, givingriseto annoying confusion.
It is known, for example, that the slaves in Santo Domingo revolted in the
late eighteenth century. This statement would only be true if the word slave
is being used to refer to a social category. In fact, not all enslaved persons
revolted and not all of them fought in the wars of independence.
An actual rebellion is led by individuals who find themselves by chance
in special circumstances that enable them to form themselves into groups
22
and to organize themselves. These groups act on behalf of and in the name
of the above-mentioned social category.
This scenario presupposes that all the enslaved share certain common
knowledge and opinions. It does not follow, however, that they all express,
must express or are capable of expressing these opinions in the same way.
The fact that the Saint Domingue Revolution took place, thus conferring
a specific character on Haitian society, does not place a halo over the
Haitians that sets them apart from other Caribbean peoples.
Any sociological study of the Caribbean should always befirmlyrooted
in a recognition of the two levels of social reality. The categories and groups
of individuals correspond to different logical systems, and a sum of
groupings does not constitute a social category.
The main social categories are defined in one way or another in the legal
codes and within the basic institution of the colonial system, namely, the
plantation. The proper functioning of every other official institution requires
a certain level of compatibility with these definitions.
Groups of individuals emerge out of the various forms of collaboration
and social solidarity which develop during the course of the performance
of daily tasks together. They create and consolidate networks of
relationshifs which constitute the backbone of social cohesion in a given
community.
Because of the intermingling of categories and groups of individuals,
social cohesion in the Caribbean milieu takes on a dual aspect. On the one
hand, it represents a challenge to the imposition of colonial norms and not
necessarily to the norms themselves as systems of representations. While
this type of cohesion usually characterizes groups of individuals in the
dominant social categories, it is also found in the subordinate groups.
On the other hand, another form of social cohesion challenges not only
the imposition of colonial norms but even more so the very content of the
norms. Human groupings, belonging generally to oppressed categories, are
more sensitive to the significance of the norms imposed on them than to the
fact itself of that imposition.
The struggle against colonialism and its subsequent versions received
the support of one or the other network of groupings depending on the
degree of liberty that followed from greater political autonomy. As long as
the external domination remained unshakeable, the groups evolved in
isolation, in other words, without any independent means of modifying the
normative system.
The divergent orientations of these two types of social groups were
slowly brought closer together as the economic and social situation of the
23
territories deteriorated. As long as a compromise - a social contract- was
not formulated, the metropolitan powers were able to take advantage of
the support they received alternatively from the dominant or the
subordinate group.
5. Dualism and kgitimization of power
The fundamental political and economic institutions of a colony established
for purposes of exploitation were in many ways comparable to voluntary
associations/® in the sense that they developed out of authoritarian
decisions and did not evolve out of the relationships among their
participants. It follows, to begin with and despite any superficial
resemblance, that such institutions do not function like their European
equivalents.
The special nature of Caribbean institutions is especially striking in the
case of economic institutions, which do not generally depend on the play of
market forces.
Several other key institutions also displayed striking specificity. In the
area of religion, to take an example apparently far removed from the
economic world, the relations between the clergy and the congregation, in
the exploitation colonies, were of a different kind. The members of the
congregation belonging to the oppressed categories were debarred from the
priesthood, however devout they might have been.
Institutions based on metropolitan models, adapted to colonial
objectives, constituted the official sector of the colony. They established
the norms of political, civil, public and private life, but in fact they
organized only the lifestyles of those groups that were part of the dominant
system.
Contrary to the functioning of the matrix of colonial categories and
institutions, relationships between groups of individuals created a society
that functioned on the basis of the principles that emerged from the everyday
intercourse of its constituent elements. These embryos of civil society strove
to flourish under the yoke of colonialism and to some extent resembled the
metropolitan societies.
If we penetrate to the inner metropole we find wonder, wefindLabat,
Mocquet, the indefatigable Raleigh, Defoe, Shakespeare, and the myth
of El Dorado: exploitation converted to dream and image. For us, on
the plantation, there should have been a similar atomic beginning:
ourselves, the networks of us: relation to landscape, accumulation of
language and experience. ^^
24
In order to manage their affairs, the European civil societies have in the
course of their evolution institutionalized what they referred to as the State.
It was that State which undertook the colonization of the Caribbean and
which, when for one reason or another the metropolis wanted or was obliged
to part with its colonies, was given the responsibility of administering the
affairs of those colonies.
The State in the Caribbean was nurtured mainly on metropolitan norms
of conduct and values. It was less susceptible to the impacts of an official
civil society which flourished under its auspices and protection. The latter
differed from the embryonic local or colonized civil society.
The colonized civil society -an underground civil society- was a
response to the contrivance of the State, which not only dominated it but
pledged to destroy or at least dismantle it. After the territories acceded to
independence, the handing over of colonial institutions to the
representatives of the colonized populations therefore affected the
participation of the new nation-States in the international political system
only to the extent that the legitimization of these representatives relied on
the support of the underground civil society.
The extent and source of the legitimization of the forces of law and
order distinguish a truly independent State from one which has barely
emerged from colonial tutelage. When formal rupture from a metropolis
sprang only from the demands of an official civil society, the result was an
"emancipated" State. Such a State was characterized by a political system
half way between the norms and values of the former metropolis, which
served as its source of inspiration, and the demands for expression of the
styles of living and of thought of the local population.
The local or underground civil society did not necessarily pursue the
same objectives pursued by the colonial State or by the emancipated State.
In several instances, it did not even try to influence them.
The emancipated State shared certain common denominators with its
Western counterparts, whose internal dynamics gave rise to certain legal
norms and moral standards which had to be observed. Of these norms, the
legitimization of the monopoly of violence held by the State was
fundamental.
Consequently, whatever the conditions under which the reins of
colonial government were transferred to the nationals, sooner or later the
authorities had to reflect the wishes of all of the governed, organized within
the autonomous groupings of the official and underground civil societies.
Despite the conflicts which sometimes arose between them, the official
civil society shared with the colonial or emancipated State a central
25
objective which, since the end of the Second World War, has characterized
economic relationships between the former metropolises and the former
colonies. This was the attainment of economic and social development as
early as possible.
Although the goal of development was not necessarily alien to the local
civil society, it was not the main focus of its concerns. The quality of the
relationships among the human groups and above all the problem of justice
and individual freedoms took precedence over material well-being.
The thirst for justice and individual freedoms is inherent in the
formation of the Caribbean societies and nations. It remains to be seen
whether the sacrifices which the national development efforts appear to
demand are compatible with these aspirations. The policies of a State which
sacrifices on the altar of economic development therightsand aspiration to
justice of oppressed populations rules out any possibility of legitimizing the
political power.
This clash between economic development and social justice is the most
relevant issue during the present stage of Caribbean development. The
sudden appearance on the political scene of principles and criteria of
social cohesion characteristic of the underground civil societies
foreshadows a change in political systems and societal projects in
directions that are still not clear.
6. Plan of the study
From the sociological standpoint, the model or image of a future society
cannot have material topics or thematic features of its own. It may be
described as an increasingly dense network of interrelations designed to
optimize the bargaining power of the different social agents. It is, however,
impossible to foresee or determine the living standards to be reached, the
wealth to be distributed and its pattern of distribution, or the "social sectors"
that will be capable of stimulating lagging activities.
Social development planning concerns itself with how to distribute
wealth or shortages. It cannot predict future social matrices and
consequently the standard-setting structures that will be created. It is unable,
too, to predict the scope and kind of compromise that will result from the
negotiations under way.
The, future society will emerge from the day-to-day dealings of the
various human groups with each other. Social development planning
consists of maintaining a continuous dialogue among all the groups of
individuals who, on one ground or another, claim to be part of the Caribbean.
26
It is a collective enterprise, based on respect for contending human
groupings. It is also an effort to inform them and guide their social practices
rather than a patronizing attempt to provide for their shortcomings and to
meet their needs.
The present study avoids any kind of normative analysis. It makes no
reference to the right of nations or individuals to economic and social
development, or to the injustice and exploitation to which the populations
of the Caribbean are subjected. It seeks rather to describe the rationale of
the region's evolution.
Following this introductory chapter, the study begins by analyzing the
Creole, who is the main social actor according to the most current theories
in the region. It then examines the type of workers that succeed the slaves
and shows how they differed from the wage-earning worker.
The fourth chapter analyses the structure of regional unity based on the
behaviour patterns of the human groups involved. The fifth chapter outlines
the progress of the various forms of consensus and identifies the local
institutions that seem to underpin the social cohesion of the nation.
The sixth chapter deals with the reproduction of structural dualism,
despite a better integration of systems of production. The mechanisms of
production and reproduction of poverty will be described in this chapter.
The existence of the two civil societies mentioned in the introduction is next
posited, and the study concludes with an analysis of the relationship between
systems of government and the national culture.
27
Chapter 2
THE CREOLES
1. A new defínition
The dynamic dimension of Caribbean society grew out of the fabric of
relations among individuals. Relationships between groups are likely to
transform the interplay of social categories organized in such a way -if the
rules of the official institutions are observed- as to be repeated indefinitely.
Social innovations flow from the actions of networks made up of groups of
individuals. The practices of these groups may tend toward the direction
desired by the official institutions or in an opposite one. The important thing
is that they reflect collective choices and local initiatives.
The establishment of groups and of networks of permanent
relationships requires a certain familiarity with the way in which the society
functions. In the colonial situation, this was the work of the Creoles or
creolized peoples. It was not by mere chance that social scientists of the
region, in freeing themselves from metropolitan tutelage, attempted to
define the Creole and the process of creolization.
The words used to express what was occurring in the region belong
to languages which are very widely spoken, and transmit ideas in
extremely diverse contexts. These words are applied to the Caribbean
situation and are rarely derived from the situation itself. This is
particularly true of the vocabulary used in written language, above all
scientific language.
Except in the Spanish-speaking countries, discourses in European
languages are seldom intended for the local population. At best they are
aimed at an intellectual elite well-versed in the use of these languages which,
though foreign, are sometimes official. They restrict themselves to
formulations which are acceptable in the countries where these
"mother-tongues" originate but do not necessarily have the same meaning
attributed to them in the Caribbean.
2Q
If we acknowledge the fact that Caribbean society is responsible for the
social changes taking place in the region, we must try to comprehend exactly
how the local populations organize their experiences and transmit their
knowledge to future generations.^^
Any information essential for survival in a given society is
unquestionably contained in the languages in current use -the vernacular
languages. One cannot really understand a society if one does not
understand its language, and clearly one cannot change the former without
first mastering its system of communication.
Linguists are of the view that the indispensable and frequently used
concepts in a given milieu tend to be presented in the form of relatively short
standardized labels.^^ In order to understand the central, specifically
colonial figure known as the Creole, it is useful to adopt this approach. This
will permit the Caribbean problem to be situated in its proper context and
ensure that it is not defined in terms drawn from foreign dictionaries.
The word Creole is used with a variety of meanings -even in the
Caribbean- and understanding them is no easy task. The vernacular
language used in Haiti has two opposing concepts, which seem to sum up
the problem in question perfectly. These concepts are, firstly, the nég and
the blan, and secondly, the kréol and the bosal.
The black is in contrast with the white, and the Creole in contrast with
the African bom, or bossale. In Haiti, the term "Creole" is used to refer to
a social group only before independence. After 1804, the country had no
more colonists and received no large contingents of Africans. Since the term
no longer described a category of persons, it disappeared.
The concept of "Creole" stands in contrast only with that of the African
born, and this suggests that the difference between the metropolitan white
and the Creole white has not been codified. In Haiti, and in most of the
countries of the region, the word "white" means foreigner.^"^ During
colonial times therefore, there was an identity among whites, whether they
were Creoles or metropolitans.
It is noteworthy that this way of conceiving the dominant ethnic group
in the colony contrasts with the Latin American view of the Creole, which
has developed in opposition to the concept of metropolitans. This difference
is especially important in understanding the peculiarities of the Caribbean
societies that were established during Spanish domination. We shall return
later to this aspect of the question.
Consequently, the distinction between the Creole and the metropolitan
remained valid only during the period of colonization. After independence,
the people from the metropolis became foreigners.
30
The situation in Haiti cannot be generalized to apply to the Caribbean
as a whole, without certain reservations. In countries that are still colonies
and in those that have only recently become independent, Creole whites are
known as béké, French Creoles or local whites, which distinguishes them
from the rest of the population and from metropolitan whites. These very
common designations do not, however, affect the assimilation of all
whites as foreigners.^^
In the Caribbean region, the distinction drawn between the Creole
and the African born (bossale) originates in the period of the slave trade.
When England put an end to that trade, the entire population tended to
be labelled Creole by force of circumstances and the distinction
gradually disappeared.
One might expect the concept of Creole to be used in the same way to
categorize indentured labourers from South-East Asia, who may or may not
be familiar with the rules of the game in a given colony. However, this is
not the case.
The reason for this is very simple. In all the region's colonies there were
European planters and Creole planters, as well as African-bom enslaved
and Creole enslaved. But there could be no indentured labourers bom in the
colony. That would contradict the terms of the labour contract which defined
that category.
An indentured labourer was a European or Asian worker who paid his
own passage to the colony by providing his labour free or almost free of
charge for a certain number of months, usually 36. The mechanism for
integrating this type of migrant into the colonial societies was different from
that used for integrating Africans or other Europeans and their respective
descendants.
The Creole was not defined by his place of birth, as many dictionaries
claim.^^ An individual and his descendants may be classified as Creoles
depending on the type of contract that determined their original insertion
into a colonial society.
The Indian, Chinese or Javanese indentured labourers, like the
individuals bom through miscegenation with the "creolizable" ethnic
groups, did not become Creoles and did not consider themselves as such.
The individual bom of the miscegenation of a European and an African -the
mulatto- represents the Creole par excellence, a person who could not be
anything but Creole.
The case of the Portuguese and European indentured workers in general
complicates this attempt at a definition, because they were assimilated with
the local whites when their contracts expired. Nevertheless, most of the
31
countries that received European indentured labourers placed them in a
category created especially for them. A distinction was made between the
petits blancs, white niggers or rednecks on the one hand, and the grands
blancs, béké or French Creoles, on the other, thus emphasizing the origin
of this segment of Creole whites.
Despite this slight difference imposed by the social history of the
European indentured labourers, it may be said that the term Creole was
reserved for black people, mixtures of blacks and whites.peí/tó blancs, béké
or local whites, not only because they were bom in the Caribbean but also
because of their peculiar association with the plantation society project.
According to Caribbean usage, two types of immigrants, the bossale or
African and the white or European, could become Creoles. In each of these
cases, creolization had a history (a chronology) and an end. The mulatto
was not affected by the creolization process because, in principle, he was
always a Creole.
As we shall see in the following chapter, it was precisely to frustrate
the effects of creolization that the colonial authorities and planters invented
indentured labourers' contracts in the nineteenth century. We shall return
to this subject, but it should be made clear that the Caribbean Creole's
situation was quite different from that of the Latin American Creole.
The Creoles in a colonial slave society constituted a different social
category from the basic ones (the enslaved and the planters) in that it derived
from them. The Creole strata arose during the execution of the colonial
project when the system of rewards and discriminations was being set up.
Creoles and non-Creoles possessed different attributes and aptitudes. The
Creole white was not always the equal of the metropolitan, j ust as the Creole
enslaved was not always the equal of the African-born bossale.
In this chapter, we shall study the means by which an African-born
enslaved person became a creolized enslaved person, and the change of
status from an enslaved person to that of a freed person. This represents an
attempt to analyze the behaviour of the Creole category before general
emancipation and not the day-to-day relationships among the individuals
categorized as such.
2. African-born (bossale) or creolized person
The creolized person was therefore a clearly defined historical figure. In
order to analyze the creolization process one must examine the fate which
befell him or her so as not to be misled and not to omit any of the essential
characteristics of the process.
32
One will readily admit that the creolization of a metropolitan -his
conversion to a béké- did not follow the same course as that of an African.
At the beginning, the metropolitan was the master, the person in charge of
the colonial institutions. The African was the enslaved person whom R. T.
Smith had in mind when he suggested that the plantation should be studied
as a "total institution".^^
The plantation was, however, considerably more than a "total
institution". Prisoners or novices know why they are in prisons or convents.
They are aware of what is expected of them and why they should submit
themselves to the discipline of these institutions.
The planter and his employees were bound to use a contingent of
enslaved persons according to a given production plan. The labour force
thus acquired had no idea of what this "total institution" was about. One can
therefore imagine the task which fell to the masters.
The slave owners could not appeal to the workers' understanding. The
legal system indeed recognized that the former had a right of ownership over
their enslaved, but it was up to the slave owners to make sure that these new
arrivals, whose language and systems of reference they were ignorant of,
behaved in a manner which to them -the enslaved- was totally unfamiliar.
It was therefore evident: 1) that the enslaved worker was not an
employee of the planter because certain common denominators that
normally exist between employee and employer were lacking in that
relationship; 2) that it was the planter assisted by his agents, who gave
meaning and direction to the adaptation of the enslaved, that is to say, he
dictated the characteristics, the areas and the pace of the creolization
process; 3) that the captivity of the foreigner was an established fact - a
necessary but not sufficient condition to convert him into a slave. Between
the status of an enslaved and the status of a slave lay the socialization
process: \he seasoning. It is worth stressing that the person in captivity was
not a slave, but "an enslaved person".
1
The systematic mortification and humiliation
of the enslaved
foreigner were the starting point of the creolization process. Since the
foreigner or African bom was totally unfamiliar with the ways of the
plantation, the first and principal technique used in this process was
torture.^^
Torture in the plantation system was a normal phenomenon and not a
sadistic perversion. It was functionally necessary to the system and the only
way to convert an alien into a slave.
As in a market economy, where an employer who refused to pay a wage
would have no one to work for him, on the slave plantation a planter who
was disinclined to torture his slaves would have no workers. Torture was
practised not just during the seasoning period. The system could not
function without either real torture or the threat of it.
This predominant role of torture explains the ambiguiW of the
creolization which it was thought to produce and reproduce. Despite
all that has been said, in fact, torture was the ironic expression of the equality
of the actors in the plantation system.
The planter, who regarded his donkey as an inferior being, did not have
to resort to torture to make it work. Torturing an enslaved person was
therefore a tacit recognition of his equality
The more the planter tortured his captive, the more he admitted his
failure to understand him. Conversely, the more the enslaved person was
tortured, the more he permitted the planter to exercise the only hold he had
over him, which was brute force, and, consequently, the more he proved
that he did not understand his situation.
The creolized enslaved person may thus be defined as one who acquired
a certain mastery over the mechanism by which labour was obtained in the
slave system. He understood the importance of power relations in setting
up the framework in which his life would henceforth unfold.
The unrestrained use of torture as the normal system of management
on the plantation-based colonies served also to create a distance between
the planter's value system and that of the metropolis. In the mother country,
other forms of management of labour relations were practised. Its legislative
system, which defined the social category of "slave", was a response to
certain material interests, principles and criteria whose dynamics of change
bore no direct relationship to daily life in the colony.
At a certain stage the metropolitan legislative system decreed the
equality of civil and political rights for freed persons and even total
emancipation. In the daily management of their enterprises (and of their
private lives), the planters, however, had no intention of relinquishing the
benefits to be derived from the subordination of the freed men, or the
practice of torture, or the threat of torture of the enslaved. Since they
constantly had to convince themselves that their behaviour was justified,
they were in no position to fully emulate the progress achieved by the
metropolis in the areas of law and justice.
This divergence between the criteria applied by the planters in their
daily life and the ideological progress made in Europe was never carried to
its ultimate consequences. The planters could not survive without the (or a)
metropolis, nor did the latter wish to divest itself of its colonies.
34
The compromise consisted of limiting the exercise of the rights that the
colonizing power recognized as belonging to one sector of the Creole world.
The sector that benefitted was the one which the colony had to assimilate
-^nd only to the extent that it needed to assimilate it- to ensure the smooth
running of its institutions.
As the danger to a colony increased, the size of the groups and categories
that had to be assimilated would also grow. The appearance on the colonial
political scene of "petty whites", anciens libres or freed men, Creole
enslaved, maroons in revolt and finally of all enslaved persons reflected the
increasing gravity of the situation in the French colonies towards the end of
the eighteenth century.
This was the main difference between the so-called English, French,
Spanish and Dutch-speaking Caribbean countries. The difference had
nothing to do with the internal structures of these entities but was a reflection
in the occupied territories of the differences between the various
metropolises.
The evolution of the canons and values that guided the daily life of the
planters always followed the pattern set in the metropolises and it is this
constant adjustment of the metropolitan culture to colonial conditions that
the present study refers to as Creole or dominant culture.
The rights and privileges that were acknowledged as belonging to the
citizens of the metropolis were not extended to those who were bom in the
colony but had no part in administering it. Such persons constituted a sector
that remained unassimilated, a sector whose over-exploitation produced the
profits that justified the existence of the colony.
It should be noted that very early on the enslaved Creoles split into two
groups. One group progressed towards emancipation in keeping with the
needs of the colonial administration. The other remained in captivity and
therefore had no access to the cultural elements that determined the thinking
of the planters.
By socializing their enslaved captives within the plantation framework,
the planters also set up an insurmountable barrier between their own world
and the world of the persons whom they tortured. Because torture took the
place of labour relations, the persons tortured ipso facto gave no thought to
how the desired economic results could be obtained and made no effort to
achieve them.
The economic output of the plantation held absolutely no interest for
the creolized enslaved as opposed to the freedman. The enslaved person
was concerned above all with his (social) relationships with the planter and
his employees.
The creolized worker had no relationship with the product of the
plantation until after the abolition of slavery, or at least after the abolition
of the slave trade, when the labour supply ceased to be elastic. We shall
examine the machinations to which the planters resorted to prevent the
emergence of a system of labour relations designed to negotiate the share
of the output of their enterprises that the workers should receive.
The slave was not an employee. His relationship with his master was
not economic; it was a power relationship -a political one.
The lure of remuneration transforms a mere employee into a
self-motivated worker willing to accept the discipline of the enterprise. On
the plantation, it was torture that converted the enslaved into workers and
ensured the system's continuity.
The worker negotiates an increase in his wages for the continuation of
his services while the enslaved person negotiates, in his own manner, a
reduction in the frequency and degree of torture required to make him work.
The African-born enslaved who knew nothing at all about the norms
and customs of the plantation had to undergo the novitiate described above.
Following his initiation, the more he behaved like a creolized person, the
more he was able to avoid torture. Creolization under the system of slavery
took place under the threat of the whip, i.e., the prospect of unlimited
corporal punishment.
When the enslaved had grown accustomed to the discipline of slavery,
they adopted the patterns of behaviour demanded by their masters, but their
motivations remained different. Consequently, the meaning that the planter
would give to an action was not necessarily the same as that attributed to it
by the enslaved person.
The use of torture created the conditions for establishing two levels of
understanding, without necessarily any interface between them. The
plantation system was always on the verge of exploding. It lacked the
institutions which would enable the interrelated parties to agree on a
common undertaking and to share the same symbolic system. The
slavery-based plantation was never a voluntary association of individuals
sharing certain minimum objectives.
When one comes to understand the relationship between creolization
and torture as the key instrument of personnel management, answers to a
number of questions begin to emerge. The creolization process loses its
ambiguity when one attempts to capture its content.
Creolization must be conceived first and foremost as a negotiation
process aimed at improving a negative wage, in other words, avoiding
36
whipping or mutilation. Nowadays, one would say that the creolization
process led to an improvement in the living standard.
It would, however, be wrong to infer from the above that there was any
connection between creolization and the development of a single culture,
shared by all the persons bom in the colony. Any such deduction would
imply that progress could have been made or that unlimited improvement
could have occuned in the living standards when the negotiations that led
to creolization were concluded.
To use R. T. Smith's comparison again, in a prison, new arrivals go
through a "novitiate" period and learn willingly or by force what the
principles and rules of the institution are. As Smith rightly points out, the
prisoner has not lost his culture but he has no opportunity to live it while in
captivity.
Obviously, no one expects the prisoner to apply the prison rules and
principles in his everyday life after he is released, however much his
personality may have been distorted by that experience. It is not that he is
unaware of the rules and principles of the prison, but there is no reason for
him to apply them.
Similarly, once he has left the dominant system, the enslaved Creole or
creolized person has no use for the plantation culture or the Creole culture.
In other words, that culture is not the culture of all persons born in the
colonies.
The approach used in this study explains why there has never been a
uniform culture in the type of colony established in the Caribbean. Whereas
the adaptation of metropolitan cultures to plantation systems was conceived
of as a Creole culture, the culture that the population develops in response
to the policies of the metropolises is called Caribbean or local culture.
This culture is by no means another pole of Creole culture, its African
pole, but an indigenous product that reflects principles distilled from the
Caribbean experience.
The confusion between local culture and the dominant culture is kept
alive by the fact that the Creole culture is usually expressed in the official
European languages. Paradoxically, the local culture is expressed primarily
in the vernacular languages, which are commonly referred to as Creole
languages.
The local culture is likened to an African way of thinking because of
an erroneous definition of the term "culture". Furthermore, such
assimilation fails to take into account the specificity of the Caribbean milieu
which was organized around an institution of which Africa had no previous
knowledge: the plantation.
37
The sura total of the survival strategies and of the achievements of its
populations certainly makes it possible to subdivide the Caribbean into such
categories as English-speaking, French-speaking, or Spanish-speaking
subregions. But this diversity of behaviour patterns and achievements
-which, moreover, does not cover all the populations of the islands in
question- in no way implies a variety of processes of creolization.
The creolization processes did not contain elements that were
peculiar to each plantation system. Few colonies have belonged to one
metropolis alone and few colonies of the same metropolis have shared
the same history. Proof of this is the fact that the nuances of creolization
never prevented the exchange of enslaved between one island or territory
and another.
Over and above the creolization processes, the choice of behaviour
patterns and the consequences of collective choices varied from one
territory to another. The most important thing, therefore, is to understand
the criteria used in evaluating survival strategies and decision-making.
These are criteria that establish similarities between, for example,
enslaved persons in Barbados and those in Saint Domingue, whatever
their specific conditions of existence. Such criteria distinguish these two
groups of enslaved persons from their English and French masters
respectively and enable the English and French to agree whenever
necessary.
3. The Creole or freedman
It is interesting to note that nouns were used to designate the fundamental
categories of the plantation -slaves^^ and planters- whereas the
subcategories were designated by adjectives and participles used as
substantives -bossales, Creoles or freedmen.
While the primary categories were mutually exclusive, the secondary
categories showed a progression, as follows: the African enslaved, the
creolized enslaved, the Creole enslaved and the emancipated or freedman.
The latter could be further subdivided either into blacks and mulattoes or
into "old" and "new" freedmen, which occurred during the Saint Domingue
revolution.
Social strata in colonial society were clearly defined, and transition
from one stratum to another could take place within one or two generations.
Two points deserve to be highlighted here. Firstly, these "class transfers"
did not call into question the basic differences between planters and slaves,
and secondly, such mobility was individual and uni-directional. The
38
emancipated mulatto never became a freed black. An enslaved Creole never
ran theriskof becoming creolized again. The creolized person would never
be a newly arrived, African-bom bossale.
Colonial society was composed of castes, and upward mobility was
possible in the sense of greater assimilation into plantation society.
Downward mobility usually affected an entire stratum of society.
Downward mobility implied a reformulation of overall relationships
between the colony and the metropolis. Changes brought about in the
French possessions by Napoleon's takeover offer a good example: they
resulted in the revocation of the decrees granting civil and political rights
to freed persons as well as those providing for the general emancipation
of slaves.
The creolized class was one of the early products of the pattern of
interpersonal relationships in the colonial society. That class was
followed by the Creoles, in the narrow sense of the word, that is to say,
persons born in the colony. Among these were the Creoles par excellence,
the mulattoes.
Still at the level of interpersonal relationships, the next class to
emerge was that of freedmen. They came into being as a result of local
initiatives in order to play given roles within the system, and these roles,
in addition to the status that they conferred, finally became
institutionalized.
It must be borne in mind that by bringing interpersonal relations into
the analysis of the origins of the secondary social categories into which
colonial life is organized, one is venturing into two very different spheres
of social life, shifting from the public to the private life of persons and vice
versa.
In order to be able to function at his post, the African-bom bossale had
to be creolized. The appearance of the other actors mentioned above in their
various social positions implied that there were other forms of family or
private relationships leading to the emancipation of an enslaved person. By
becoming institutionalized, these private relationships in turn established
the bases of networks of interpersonal relationships, i.e. of the local civil
society.
Examination of the link between public and private life is another way
of analyzing the relationship between social categories and groups of
individuals. When confronted with the power structure that dominated
colonial life, the creolized person had three options: to "accept" the status
quo, that is to say, to acknowledge an extemal situation which he could not
modify either by himself or through the collective action of his group; to
39
commit suicide (history records individual and collective suicides); or to
escape from the dominion of the colonial authorities.
The last two options bore no direct relationship to the creolization
process. The reader will recall that there were not only individual or
collective decisions, but also choices available or projects realizable. The
creolized person in Antigua, for example, would have had considerable
difficulty in conceiving of escape as a viable solution.
The institutionalization of public life was much more visible than that
of private life. This was particularly true of the performance at the
work-place. The enslaved person had to do his utmost to observe the
principles which guided the organization of his labour. He could not display
the cultural distance that separated him from the colonizer without
triggering an apparatus of repression which did not "normally" (that is to
say in his relations with creolized persons) function.
In his private life on the other hand, displaying signs of his cultural
difference could initiate the forms of solidarity necessary for interpersonal
relationships to develop. "Otherness" vis-á-vis the colonizers led to the
formation of networks of social groupings that enabled the enslaved to
survive.
Insofar as the enslaved as a group were unable to overcome oppression,
individual emancipation remained the only way to improve their living
conditions. The two methods of emancipation are well known: the granting
of freedom by the slave owner or the purchase of that freedom by the slave
himself.
Individual emancipation implied a process of negotiation between
individuals (an interpersonal relationship) belonging to different social
categories (negotiation within official institutions). This gave rise to acts of
cajolery, duplicity and betrayals, which formed part of the process of
creolization of the bossale.
There were two way s in which the freedman or emancipated slave could
work: he could either set himself up in business independently, or he could
hire himself out. Unskilled manual labour was mainly performed by slaves,
and since such labour was unpaid, the freedman could only work as a skilled
craftsman or fill junior posts in the administration of public or private
enterprises, such as that of foreman, policeman or silversmith. In other
words he had -as an emancipated person- to be useful to the smooth
operation of the plantation system.
The special situation of emancipated persons -the anciens Ubres as they
were called in Saint Domingue- and of their descendants reveals the
importance of the Creole culture in the Caribbean, In contrast, the
40
creolization process and access to Creole culture were normally studied in
the context of the "total institution", the plantation.
However much he tried to assimilate the norms and principles of
colonization, the creolized or the Creole enslaved person did not have the
material resources or indeed the rights and privileges which would permit
him to organize his private life on the basis of the official institutional model.
Once he was emancipated, his family, religion, cuisine, language, dress,
modes of recreation, dwelling, etc., could only copy the formulas of the
metropolitan settlers in a very specific context.
A distinction must be drawn between a) individual emancipation
made possible by the performance of the enslaved person and the functional
needs of the colonial system; and b) the total emancipation of slaves in
response to demands of another kind, which followed an itinerary that will
be the subject of the following chapter.
The enslaved person who broke away from his peers and won his
freedom had a certain familiarity, however limited, with the dominant
system. Because his new status was useful to the administration of the slave
system, he managed to obtain some material goods as well as some rights
and privileges which permitted him to attempt to organize his private life
along lines that increasingly reflected those established by the dominant
institutions.
The freedman's "acceptance" of metropolitan life-styles and his
inclination to copy those prestigious models were not simply a question of
personal choice. An individual who, for one reason or another, was granted
or purchased his freedom within the framework of the slave system could
only survive if he observed the rules and regulations in force.
The acculturation or assimilation of the freedman was inevitable
because he had to refrain from any display of ethnic or cultural difference
in exchange for the chance of a better life. The freedman was the first local
social category to have access to employment and wages.^ He therefore
developed some interest in the products of the plantation and its related
economic institutions.
The successful freedman had, above all, the right and privilege of
passing on the fruits of his success to his heirs. Since the improvement of
his living conditions depended on a prudent observance of the norms of
public life imposed by the colonial power, he educated his children in the
manner desired by the official institutions.
Certain rules and principles that governed public life gradually made
their way into the private lives of the free sectors of the local population.
Social groupings and peculiar systems of interpersonal relationships
41
emerged from the activities of these freedmen in both their private and their
public lives. These practices created a gulf however, between the latter and
enslaved persons which could not be bridged before general emancipation.
This new of emancipated person, because of his legitimate
aspirations to better living standards, better work conditions and the
safeguarding of the progress he had achieved, gradually changed his
life-style. The more successful he was, the more necessary and easier
this step became. Since he was exploited less and less, he enjoyed the
material conditions and legal status which enabled him to pattern his
life-style after European standards.
As we are aware, in the best of cases the freedman became a planter
and bought his own slaves. In the framework of official institutions, the
system tended to perpetuate itself.
In addition to the possibility of economic collapse, the colonial society
imposed real limitations on the freedman. He was excluded from certain
professions, certain civil and political rights were denied him, and he was
not allowed to occupy the more productive lands.
Freedmen were quite aware of the discrimination to which they were
subjected.' It reminded them all too vividly that the social category to which
they belonged came out of the slave category and was not a fundamental
part of the colonial system.
The emancipated were the final product of the creolization process, and
the mulatto was the most typical of that group. Their privileged status, which
was linked to the plantation system and to the Creole culture, set them apart
from the Creole or creolized enslaved persons, who had no particular
interest in defending that system and that culture.
With the general emancipation of slaves, the freedmen disappeared as
a social category. They were replaced by other protagonists whose status
reflected the deterioration of the plantation system in the nineteenth century.
In Haiti where the plantation economy went bankrupt, the former
freedmen (anciens libres) and their descendants, unlike the Creole whites
and the metropolitans who fled or disappeared, resorted to forms of popular
solidarity and i^ their own way participated in solutions implemented by
the "new" freedmen, les nouveaux libres. Without abandoning their
fundamental aspirations and attitudes, the anciens libres engaged in urban
activities that complemented the peasant economy.
In those colonies where the plantations managed to survive, the system
was perpetuated thanks to the anciens libres and their descendants, who
were less restricted in their choice of a profession at that time than during
the period before emancipation.
42
4. Creoles in the Caribbean and Latin America
At this stage of our study, we should make a distinction between the different
types of Creoles. As we underlined at the beginning of this chapter, the use
of terminology created in other contexts poses certain difficulties for the
study of the region's problems. By Creole, one generally means a person of
foreign origin who was bom in a Latin American or Caribbean colony. The
Creole was generally the social actor best adapted to any colonization
model. A distinction needs to be made however, between the Creoles in the
settlement colonies and those in the colonies established for purposes of
exploitation. The former, the prototype represented by the Latin American
of the Southern Cone, constitute large groups of free settlers, who severed
their political links with their mother country. In the rest of Latin America,
the concept of "Creole" tends to cover -and after independence to be
replaced by that of- the "mestizo".
In comparison with the indigenous population, the Creoles and mestizos
constituted a dominant although not necessarily the majority ethnic group.
Their domination of both the indigenous and the black groupings gave Latin
American countries the dual character of a settlement colony and an
exploitation colony.
The Latin American Creoles were settled in the colony without any
hope or possibility of returning to the metropolis and consequently acquired
interests of their own. They were also in a position to bequeath this legacy
to their descendants and to defend them more or less successfully, especially
during the periods of crisis in the economies and societies of the metropolis.
The Creoles were the architects of national independence. In their eyes,
the Amerindian and black populations were marginal -although not necessarily
minority- groups to be integrated into what they called national life.
Certain connotations derived from the racial classification systems of
past centuries serve to define the Latin American Creole. The contemporary
characterization of Latin American culture still makes use of elements of
the biological sciences of that jjeriod. One therefore often reads that this
was a Creole or mestizo culture, and it is typically described as a mixture
in which the constituent parts combined without weighting factor.^
The colonies of the Caribbean were essentially colonies for
exploitation. A different logic lay behind the various forms of social
cohesion because the majority of the people were not settlers, even though
they were of foreign origin.
Unlike their Latin American counterparts, the "Caribbean Creoles",
therefore did not live within the framework of a given system for one or two
4'i
centuries. The plantation, and above all the slavery plantation, did not
demographically reproduce any of its social strata. The region did not
produce successive generations of planters or enslaved persons who
might end up creating or adopting a dominant mestizo or mulatto
culture.
There is no doubt that the Caribbean, like Latin America, witnessed
several socialization processes, but these evolved at a different pace. They
were part of the history of the plantation system, which constantly expelled
the resources necessary for its own consolidation.
As soon as the accelerated rotation of the "human resources" of the
plantation society ceased, the latter's history could no longer be followed
without noting the effectiveness of its opposite, the peasant or
counter-plantation economy. The history of the Creoles in the Caribbean is
therefore not the consequence of successive generations issuing from one
and the same type of society.
Moreover, unlike the Latin American model, the dominant ethnic group
within the new populations of the Caribbean was clearly a minority. Even
during the worst metropolitan economic crises, it failed to conceive of and
even less to apply any forms of self-centred development. It remained in
the colony only in the hope of leaving it one day.
Cultural contacts between various ethnic groups of the region occurred
within the framework of a societal project completely lacking any local
base. The social cohesion which grew out of this project was negligible and
occupied only those spaces which did not adversely affect the colonial
exploitation system.
In this way, the interpenetration of cultural contributions from the
various ethnic groups took place on each side of the rifts between the
exploiters and the exploited, without any attempt to define the
objectives of the colonized society as a whole. The process had nothing
in common with the assimilation of immigrants which characterized
the formation of the populations of the Southern Cone of Latin
America.
The cultural contacts that took place in the Caribbean are reminiscent
of the exchanges observed in the meso-American and Andean countries
between, on the one hand, immigrants of European origin and their
descendants and, on the other, the various Amerindian tribes and their
descendants. There was however, an important difference: the support given
by the mother countries to the immigrants of European origin who finally
settled in the region enabled them to profit from the exploitation of the
resources of the colonies.
44
The Europeans did not establish a settlement infrastructure in the
Caribbean, nor did they set up the institutional bases needed to create locally
a common heritage.
Contrary to what occurred in Latin America, it was the oppressed ethnic
groups which, in times of crisis, created the most remarkable forms of
self-centred development. The first initiatives of this kind were the maroon
societies and the free villages.^
In Latin America, the contributions of the settlers of European origin
formed the axis of national cultures. In the Caribbean, it was the oppressed
group that made a signifícant contribution to the core of local cultures. This
local culture cannot be called Creole without running the risk of confusing
the creations of the dominated ethnic groups with the adaptations of
European institutions by the dominant ethnic group.
The situation in Spain's former Caribbean colonies deserves special
study. People of European origin, including poor Spaniards, Moors, Jews,
and other "pagans" and "heretics" fleeing from the Inquisition and other
forms of persecution and discrimination, established themselves in the
region as settlers or "colonists", in the strict sense of the term. These
"colonists" constituted the bulk of the population in those territories,^
where the situation they created reflected that of their Latin American
counterparts.
Nevertheless, unlike societal groups on the continent, the Creole
settlers in the Spanish Caribbean did not define themselves as distinct
from the humiliated and despised Amerindian and black groups. In the
Spanish Caribbean, there were no "ethnic groups to integrate" or "to
hispanicize".
The labour force used on the plantations where the Creoles of Spanish
origin worked was singularly heterogeneous. As this type of slave plantation
developed, especially when the sugar factories became modernized, thus
increasing their demand for cane, the plantations used not only enslaved
persons of African origin, but also immigrants from Spain, indentured
Chinese labourers and Creole agricultural workers of European origin.^^
Interethnic relationships in Cuba, the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico
differed from those which developed in other Caribbean countries and Latin
America.
The Creoles in the Spanish Caribbean could not break away from their
metropolis by copying the Latin American formula. The United States of
America intervened in these conflicts, which tended to create a dualism
similar to the situation of the oppressed ethnic groups in the rest of the
region.
45
Consequently, the territories that Spain occupied in the archipelago
were peopled by a highly stratified population of settlers, which constituted
the dominant, majority ethnic group. This situation, which is similar to that
of Latin America, makes Cuba the most Latin American of the Caribbean
countries. The struggles of the Creole elites there to win national
independence emphasizes even more the similarity between Cuba and the
Latin American nations.
In the establishment of the dominant social structures, the plantation
system played a role much like the one it played in other Caribbean nations.
However, the gap between the ethnic groups was less than in the islands
where the plantation system had flourished since the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries.
Moreover, the first "visible" core ^of self-sufficient relationships was
created by persons of European origin and not, as in the other Caribbean
islands, by immigrants of African origin. In Cuba, the Dominican Republic
and Puerto Rico, the term "Creole" does not discriminate between the
cultural origins and consequences of behaviours typical of the Creole
plantocracy and the culture of peasants and agricultural workers themselves,
which encouraged their own self-directed efforts. In this subregion, the
latter were, for the most part, of European origin. Their social practices,
though divergent, seem to reflect a common set of standard-setting norms
and principles. The observations that follow cannot therefore be extended
to the above-mentioned countries without serious reservations.
46
Chapter 3
THE FREEDMEN
1. A new social category
The establishment of groupings and networks of relationships that could
resolve the difficulties faced by the population required a sound
knowledge of the milieu. How could the newly arrived, whether
African-born bossales or indentured labourers, manage to control a
situation in their best interests if they had not been trained by the Creoles
and taught the rules of the game? These rules were to a large extent
dictated by the metropolitan power and its agents, and the Caribbean
culture or cultures were therefore often regarded as local substitutes for
the European cultures.^^
There is no doubt that an adaptation or creolization of the European
cultural models took place in the Caribbean. It does not follow, however,
that this Creole culture was the culture of all Creoles.
In order to describe the characteristics of the regional mentality, one
must observe the behaviour of these groupings of individuals responding to
a value system formulated in Europe and transplanted into the Caribbean
colonies. That value system defined the social categories imposed by
colonialism; the grouping of individuals placed into these categories was a
mechanism they developed by their own means to cope with the conditions
imposed on them. The Caribbean culture was both the origin and the
outcome of these groupings of individuals and of the networks of
relationships binding them together.
The production system that was established after the general
emancipation of the slaves was not as cleariy defined as that of the slave
plantation. The Caribbean counted for less and less in the economic
development projects of the metropolises, and different types of agricultural
workers emerged. Manual workers ceased to be the chattel of the planter
and began to enjoy some bargaining power.
47
Nevertheless, the concrete relations among the workers and the living
conditions of the groups into which they formed themselves represented a
prolongation of the conditions experienced under the tutelage of their
former masters. In so far as the creolization processes of the preceding
period would have influenced the way of thinking of both former masters
and former slaves, the attitudes of both of these groups might have been
expected to show a certain continuity in terms of the primacy of the values
and norms of slavery. This was true, however, only of the masters.
In the nineteenth century, the organization of an export-oriented
agriculture in the Caribbean was more or less dynamic depending on the
ability of the territories involved and the protection granted by one or the
other of the metropolises. George Beckford summarizes the steps taken to
ensure the survival of the plantation thus:
(...) throughout the first-established New World plantation areas
the basic pattern of adjustment to the abolition of slavery was the
same: plantation monopoly of the land to prevent the ex-slaves from
being independent of plantation work; legislation by
planter-controlled governments to force the ex-slaves to continue
working on the plantations; other measures to keep the ex-slaves
"attached" to the plantations; and immigration of new laborers
where all else failed.^®
Among the "other measures" adopted to ensure that former slaves
remained on the plantations, Beckford cites the institution of levies and
taxes which forced the former enslaved to move over to the money economy
and which prevented them from resorting to any kind of marronmge. The
measures were rendered harsher by the regulations against "vagrancy",
which was the official term used for internal migration.
The restriction of the movement of workers and the need for cash
compounded the artificial scarcity of arable land. Although these constraints
did not constitute economic data, they described the limits of economic
action that the population could take.
In this chapter, we shall try to describe the relationships between the
nouveaux libres (freedmen) and the planters and to clarify the nature of the
groupings of workers that were formed during this period as well as the
norms which guided their behaviour. The expression "nouveaux libres",
borrowed from the colonial vocabulary of Saint Domingue, is used to
designate any person freed by the decrees of abolition of slavery.
Several points here need to be clarified. Who replaced the enslaved
person vis-á-vis the planter? What exactly was this freedom that was
recognized by the erstwhile pro-slavery authorities as being a right of the
48
enslaved persons? And conversely, how did individuals in this new category
meet their daily needs? The views which follow relate not to the distant past
but to phenomena which still occur today on the eve of the year 2000.
2, Piecework
One century after the abolition of slavery in the British possessions, Lord
Moyne (in chapter III of his famous West India Royed Commission Report,
"Social structures and conditions"), deals with the nég-blan dichotomy:
In this Chapter, our main concern will be the conditions of life of
the non-European populations -the negroes, whose ancestors were
brought to the West Indies in a condition of slavery and the East
Indians, who came in circumstances which cannot be regarded as
equivalent to the immigration of free settlers. (...) The negroes had
one function only -the provision of cheap labour on estates owned
and managed by Europeans for the production of their valuable
export crops.^^
The Caribbean's economic contribution -excluding that of Cubaincreased at only a modest rate as the nineteenth century unfolded, owing
to the development of a market economy, technical progress in the
production of a cane sugar substitute, the establishment of plantation
economies in other geographical areas and, following the First World War,
the increasingly efficient production of tropical produce in the metropolitan
countries located in temperate climates.
Contrary to what economists believe is too obvious even to discuss, the
negotiations that affected the total wealth of the Caribbean societies and
how it was distributed did not respond to economic rationality. Local
economic practices stemmed from political agreements, without which
there could have been no plantations.
The subordination of economic life to political considerations still
persists in contemporary society and most seriously affects the
production of agro-export enterprises. The present crisis of the
Caribbean sugar economy as well as its success are the best proof of
this. Without the agreements between the Dominican Republic,
represented by the State Sugar Council, and the Republic of Haiti, for
example, there would have been no Dominican sugar on the
international market.^^
In order to place our arguments in their proper context, we should look
again at the nineteenth century plantation and show how the practices
established at that time still govern production in the plantation system. One
49
may recall the subdivision proposed by Peter Eraser of the areas of
plantation economies in the nineteenth century:
The Caribbean can (...) be divided into five main areas where
heavily capitalized export agriculture was (1) in ruins -Haiti; (2)
declining -Suriname, Jamaica, the four islands mentioned ábove
(Montserrat, Tobago, Grenada and Dominica); (3) holding
its own -Barbados; (4) developing -Cuba, British Guiana,
Trinidad, the anomalies of Martinique and Guadeloupe to which
the French turned after the loss of Saint Domingue; and (5)
underdeveloped -Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic (both
turning to export agriculture on a large scale late in the 19th century)
and Cayenne, better known for convicts than exports. With
differences in the fortunes of the export sector went differences in
rural society
In some instances, the plantation encountered serious difficulties and the
planter quite simply reverted to being a large landholder. In other instances, the
sugar factory was absorbed by multinational companies, and the local elites
tended to assume responsibility for the production of cane and for maintaining
a political climate that was favourable to the growth of the sector. In both cases,
the arable lands were monopolized and the new freedmen's only alternative to
working on the plantations was to till marginal lands.
In the picture that Celma draws of the contemporary society in
Martinique and Guadeloupe, she describes the following types of workers:
1) the tenant farmers who shared the produce of their farm with the
landlord;^"^ 2) the workers who were provided with housing or peones
acasillados; and 3) "outsiders", that is to say, agricultural workers hired
by the day or by the week. Rodney writes that in British Guiana:
The plantation labor force comprised three distinct sections; firstly
indentured laborers ^^ who were predominantly Indian; secondly,
free estate residents wh¿ were usually time-expired immigrants and
their Creole descendants; and thirdly, Creole villagers who were
mainly African.^^
Woodville K. Marshall, for his part, points out that, in the Eastern
Caribbean, there were resident and non-resident workers and that from 1840
onwards the latter predominated.^^
In the industrial relationships between enslaved and employers, the
influence of the worker on the enterprise and, as a rule, on the official
institutions which defined the latter depended first of all on the type of
relationships between the employer and the employee, and secondly, on the
degree of exploitation to which the latter was subjected. The freedmen
50
-whether settlers, housed workers, outside workers, indentured labourers,
workers living on the plantations or in the villages- like the enslaved
developed no labour relations with the planters.
Some progress was, however, made in the work relationship in the sense
that an economic relationship developed. Whereas the slave's labour was
obtained through torture, the freedman was paid by the piece.
Piecework was available to any individual who had time. This enabled
a diversified pool of labour to develop. A qualified worker could, during
his free hours or with the assistance of his dependants, become an employer,
a small independent peasant, a tenant farmer or even a pieceworker during
the peak hiring periods.
What developed was a complex superimposition of various groupings
of individuals and an apparent blurring of the distinction between work
relationships and the relationships arising from the buying and selling of
raw materials.
It is perhaps necessary to state that many factory workers have common
interests with the field workers. Out of the crop season they are often called
field workers and in common with the field workers are sometimes metayers
and contributors. As contributors they stand to benefit by high prices and low
wages. As sugar industry employees as well as contributors they have dual
interests which may conflict - high wages vs. low cane production costs.^®
Depending on the countries, the colonial labour force had variously
linked "sections". The relationship between the freedmen and the planters
explains why the logical separation between the types of workers mentioned
above did not correspond to a division of individuals into different
categories or social classes but rather into "sections" of the labour force, to
use a term of Rodney.
Almost all analysts wrongly assume that piecework implied a wage
relationship.^^ The Moyne Commission drew attention to the special nature
of this relationship and concluded:
The exact form of employment in agriculture varies from Colony
to Colony, but everywhere task work is characteristic. Task work
is the West Indian term for what is described in Great Britain as
'piece work' or 'payment by results'. By far the greater proportion
of agricultural workers in the West Indies are paid for the amount
of work they actually perform and not according to the length of
time they take to do it. Payment by the day and not by the task is
the rare exception for field work in the West Indian agriculture and
the rates, though varying greatly from one Colony to another, are
extremely low.
51
(...) Thus, generally, when sums paid to labourers are quoted, these
are usually earnings and not wages. This is an important consideration
and it cannot too often be repeated that most West Indian labourers
employed on agricultural work are paid for what they actually do.'^
Piecework constitutes a specific form of economic participation and is
as widespread today as it was during the time of Lord Moyne:
Using the piece rate system, under which 97.5% of the Haitian
informants in this study labor, the plantations pay a worker only when he
works, succinctly and eloquently stated by the workers themselves: "you
don't cut, you don't eat".'*^
The production system did not purchase the labour of freedmen but
rather the product of their labour. The planter thus avoided any economic
pressures that might force him to take the agricultural worker into
consideration as a person. There was no need for him to promote the
acquisition of new skills or to incorporate new technologies in the
performance of tasks that were not carried out under his responsibility.^^
Usually, the enterprise hired and paid a foreman who in turn recruited the
labour force and allocated the tasks."^^
This method of employing labour gave the plantation great flexibility
in adapting to changes in the production schedule, to the availability of
inputs and to price fluctuations on the international market. Conflicts of
interests between the plantation and the workers were inconceivable
because the agricultural worker maintained no direct relations with the
enterprise.
The workers employed on the plantation were in fact subcontractors
and were not as a group linked to the plantation. They were no more part of
the plantation than the carpenters who are called in to repair the furniture
in the House of Representatives would be members of the legislative branch.
Strictly speaking, the plantation was not the employer of agricultural
labour. Piecework meant hiring an independent labourer or an own-account
worker. This did not involve a labour contract but rather a contract for the
purchase and sale of products or services, which was concluded between
independent entities.
On a plantation there were no jobs which were operationally
interlinked under the same administrative system. The day-to-day
activity of the agricultural worker was merely an unconnected succession
of sundry tasks. The income which he derived from them could help him
to subsist but such employment could not constitute a life-style. The
worker could not, make a career, specialize and achieve progress within
the plantation structure.
52
The task is the "sum of labour required of each worker, on a daily basis,
for the number of hours he is accustomed to work". According to the
testimony of certain workers, a task requires around six hours of work (...).
For the cutting of cane, the task is assessed for two persons: the cutter and
the binder. One task might be to produce 20 piles each containing 25 bundles
of 10 1-meter lengths of cane which would be equivalent to around
2 500-3 000 kg of cane."^
The duration of the work was concealed by the product to be delivered,
which gave rise to all sorts of crafty schemes characteristic of monopolistic
competition.'*^ This procedure was very widespread. Celma notes, with
respect to the strike at Bassignac in February 1923:
The 3 OOOH12 and the Big Tana types of cane are very hard to cut.
Experience has proven that cutters cannot complete their tasks
before 5 p.m., whereas previously they finished as early as 2 p.m."^
The "labour contract", by ignoring the time spent to complete a given
task, was concerned only with the goods produced. The remuneration
obtained therefore bore no relationship to the need to replace the energy
expended in the performance of the task, just as the profits of an
entrepreneur were not a function of the time he devoted to his enterprise.
The total income of the agricultural worker bore no relationship to the cost
of his upkeep and that of his family.
If an employer paid a wage for a given period of time, he was obliged
to take into account the living conditions of his employee because the latter's
productivity depended on those conditions (including nutritional and
educational standards). When the worker was paid by the piece and not by
the day, his hunger became a moral rather than an economic consideration
and was not an economic factor with which the entrepreneur needed concern
himself. The worker who wanted to earn more per unit of time would have
to turn to his relatives for assistance. This was most clearly illustrated in the
work of women and children.'*^
Consequently, the absolute minimum wage that a worker could accept
was not an important factor that entered into the calculation of
remuneration for work or, more exactly, of the price of the goods obtained
through his work. The worker who was hired on a piecework basis could
therefore die of hunger without the employer having to concern himself
about it.
There were two consequences of the institutionalization of this kind of
hiring: the poverty of agricultural workers and the bankruptcy of
enterprises as profitable as the plantations. We shall return to this point
later.
53
No pieceworker could exist outside the circuits of the peasant
agriculture based on the systems of tenant farming or independent small
holdings. Even when those outlets were closed to them, the workers engaged
in various marginal activities, giving rise to what Lambros Comitas refers
to as "occupational multiplicity".'^®
Where there was no pseudo-peasantry or if the human resources of
the plantation could not be displaced, the development of the plantations
depended on the migratory circuits, and the symbiosis between
piecework and the peasantry was maintained in spite of national borders.
This situation was similar to the slave trade and, according to Martin F.
Murphy, it was considerably more advantageous for the employer than
the slave trade had been.'*^ André Q)rten also notes the analogy between
these two traffics.^®
3. Trade unions and politics
The rationale behind payment by piecework developed out of the original
system of operation conceived for export oriented plantations and which
was based on a set of political agreements designed to ensure the continuity
of colonial production cycles. In the British possessions, it was the
"producers'" associations '''^which negotiated prices and quotas with the
imperial government. Quite apart from their monopolistic position, these
"producers" operated on the basis of ex ante knowledge of the price and
volume of the marketable output.
Besides cultivating on their own plantations the bulk of the cane crushed
in their mills, these "producers" also set the price of canes supplied by the
small independent farmers. Apart from a possible breakdown in
negotiations with the metropolis, the only difficulty faced by the producers'
associations was to ensure that the "wages" paid to the^agricultural workers
were consistent with the "economic facts", that is with the breakdown of
the item under which these workers were categorized in the calculation of
the total value of the ton of sugar.
The President of the Sugar Association of Saint Lucia wrote in
January 1952:
The amount received by a producer for each ton of sugar sold is
used by him under four main heads:
(1) To pay for supplies purchased
(2) To pay wages
(3) To pay overhead expenses and depreciation
(4) Profits
54
On the assumption that the every sugar producer in the British West
Indies receives the same net price for his sugar, the items spent on
(1) and (3) would be fairly constant throughout the colonies.
Qjnsequently, it is fairly apparent that when item (2) (i.e., wages
per ton of sugar) is below average, item (4) (i.e., profits) are above
the average and vice versa.^^
The calculation was therefore very simple. A company expected to
produce the number of tons of sugar set as its quota. On this basis, it
determined how much of its estate area should be cultivated and the
cost of production. By dividing the total cost by the number of hectares
to be planted, it obtained the cost of the different factors needed for
each hectare of sugar produced. The Malone Commission noted that
the sugar-refinery itself also practised that method of setting
"wages".^^
There was no personnel management department within the plantation,
and the society had no institutions that were capable of arbitrating financial
disputes between the parties. The multitude of "tasks" assigned to
independent workers could only create a climate of confrontation, even
under the most well-meaning management.
The strikes which the plantation regarded as sabotage degenerated into
riots because the disputes, being of a political nature, could not avoid
challenging the colonial structures that established the relationships
between the contending social categories. The conflicts were traceable to
the agreements which were made when the economic system was put
in place.
(...) It is unreasonable and meaningless to compare wages paid for
any particular operation. The only comparison which can stand the
test of economic and practical sense is the amount of wages paid
out to labour per ton of sugar produced.^'^
Given this situation, a trade union in an enterprise was unthinkable, and
it was in fact within the village or the entire community that workers' social
cohesion took shape. Groupings and superimposed networks of agricultural
workers, tenant farmers, peasants, and qualified labourers were all found
there ... Labour negotiations were therefore of a very peculiar kind in that
they pitted employers -the plantations- against employees -the population
as a whole.
Consequently, the price of the product of labour was merely one of
several factors. The main concern of the population was to obtain the
minimum resources -products of peasant agriculture plus earnings from
piecework- necessary for the survival of the worker and his family.
55
Walter Rodney describes the complexity of these negotiations:
The organizational feature that distinguished village labour^^ was
the independent task-gang. (...) Creole Africans in British Guiana
constituted themselves into task-gangs and negotiated with
management to have some control over wages, conditions, and
duration of work. They moved from estate to estate in the search for
better rates; they haggled over the definition of given tasks; and they
sought to use the state of the weather or the necessity of the planters
to extract some advantage. Above all, village labor aimed at
subordinating the requirements of the estate to the rhythms of village
life. Their own garden plots, their minor subsistence endeavors and
their estimate of necessary relaxation came before the time and
motion of the plantation. Except in dire necessity, villagers never
entered into contracts with the estates - preferring simply to reopen
bargaining at the beginning of each working week.^^
Similarly, the voluntary associations that attempted to intervene in the
negotiating of any conflicts that arose bore no resemblance to workers' trade
unions except in name.
About that time (1945) a few young men including myself decided
to take an active part in the organization and as a result about four
or five boys joined and began preaching trade unionism on the
Market steps. ^
In the absence of work relationships between "employer" and
"employee", it was through political negotiation and not through economic
arbitration that the outcome of the conflicts was decided. Immediately after
emancipation, employers and employees either submitted to the governor's
discretion, to the forces of order or to Her Majesty's Navy, or had recourse
to rioting and sabotage. Once again, the indentured labourers had only
minimal bargaining power.^^
In an economic system where no wages are paid and where labour
relations are not an integral part of production enterprises, there can be no
trade unions "in the universally recognized sense of the term".^^ Trade
unions cannot perform their functions if they refrain from participating "in
politics",^ since the entire institutionality of the society is threatened
whenever there is a conflict.^^
The strike in Saint Lucia (1951) was a perfect example of this. The
conflict began in the Village of Canaries, during the electoral campaign of
a merchant, Mr. Brown, who was running for a seat on the Legislative
Council. Mr. Brown's detractors pointed out that since the elections were
being held with universal suffrage,
he was shrewd enough to realise that promises of better conditions
for workers might very well attract votes. His electioneering points
were, in his own words, "to interest the people with an improvement
in their lot in the area by trying to get better wages, and better
conditions of livine -improvement in social conditions and their
manner of living". ^
Mr. Brown therefore proceeded to organize the Roseau Workers' and
Peasants Trade Union and, as was to be expected, won the elections.
It is interesting to note that the strength of the rural "trade unions" is
quite disproportionate to the size of their membership. "Trade union"
piembership is usually small. Because it voiced the people's demands, the
trade union mobilized the entire community and acted as its representative
vis-a-vis the agricultural enterprise.
Furthermore, the very constraints of the political system created special
conditions that favoured the emergence of leaders from urban areas. These
leaders had to have enough experience to represent their members in the
institutions of the overall system.
This brings us back both to the earlier questions of the blan v. nég
dichotomy and to the question of the particular form of insertion of the
freedmen in the system of social negotiations. Improvements were
negotiated by descendants of freedmen, who generally had no experience
of manual agricultural work.
With the advent of universal suffrage and representative government,
the economic situation of the plantations became untenable in the countries
which now had representative government.
When Mr. Brown commenced his politics-cum-trade union
stumping in the Roseau Valley in 1951 the Sugar Association
members were worried, but they felt there was little they could do
about it except to prepare to abandon the industry.^^
Emboldened by the support given them by the mass of workers, the
(urban) leaders of the rural trade unions became the necessary
counterparts in bargaining with the powers responsible for establishing
the colonial economic system. This was how a number of labour or
socialist parties emerged in the Caribbean.^ When universal suffrage
was granted -in 1951, in that part of the Caribbean ruled by the British-,
these parties became uncontrollably strong. They advanced towards
self-government in the Commonwealth Caribbean or won significant
improvements in the living standards of the population and in the
territories under French control.
57
4. Migration and creolization
The freedman -as defined in a society which only a short time before had
been a slave society- was a worker who 1) had absolutely no means of
production beyond that of marginal utility, 2) had no access to the labour
market, and 3) had no access to and no say in the political institutions and
decisions that prevented the establishment of a labour market.
From emancipation to the end of the nineteenth century, Caribbean
labour (like its capital) was initially drawn from all over the world.
Indentured labourers were recruited for the most part from South-East
Asia.^^ Nor can one overlook the Africans freed from the slave ships, who
in Saint Lucia, for example, together with the indentured Indian labourers
accounted for 10% of the population.
From the end of the nineteenth century, the labour force began to be drawn
from the Caribbean region, in the strict sense of the term, namely, from the basin
of the Caribbean Sea. Far from being unique and confined to that period of history,
this jdienomenon is still veiy widesjxead and remains a burning issue.
The new plantation economies which emerged, particularly in Cuba,
the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico and Central America, all repeated the
same formula.^ They recruited national migrant labourers and immigrants
who in their new countries met the same fate as that of the Indians, Chinese
and Javanese in Guyana, Trinidad, Suriname or Jamaica.
No study has yet been carried out of the impact of these migratory
movements on the host societies. However, one thing is certain: in this type
of society, labour did not circulate any more than capital.^^ This explains
why the earnings of a Haitian worker employed in the Dominican Republic
were not comparable with the wages paid to the Dominicans (or more
exactly those who were not of Haitian origin). The State imposed a legal
system to govern the use of the two factors of production, but it was careful
not to encourage any transaction designed to harmonize the costs of these
factors. The State itself destroyed the labour market.
The importance of the migration of free¿men to the smooth running of
the plantation economies in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries raised a
number of problems concerning the cultural and institutional systems
a ^ u n d which daily life was organized. Unlike slavery plantations whose
commercial success called for a creolization of the immigrant labour force,
the nineteenth and twentieth century plantations preferred to use individuals
who, during the slave trade, would have been termed African-bom or
bossales. According to the planters and colonial authorities, these "new
bossale^' became the saviours of the plantation system.
58
In the beginning, the Indian immigrants were more useful to the
plantation than the Creoles of African origin; subsequently, even among the
Indians themselves, the new recruits were more highly rated than the
creolized ones.
This discovery by W. Rodney has created an insurmountable obstacle
for the creolization theorists by forcing them to redefíne both the concept
of culture and the term creolization. For more than a century, creolization
had hindered the development of the plantation.
Fresh arrivals were the most malleable of the sectors of plantation
labor, and planters specially favored the continual influx of new
Indian immigrants. The exceptionally large number of new
immigrants introduced between 1877 and 1881 must have had a
dampening effect on the struggles of their more seasoned
counterparts. Whenever recent arrivals participated in a strike or
riot, the administration deliberately played down their involvement
by attributing it to inexperience. Conversely, immigrants of longer
standing were accused of misleading their newly arrived
countrymen. In the administration ofj ustice, a consistent policy was
worked out to give substance to the affirmation that a laborer of a
few month standing would never protest violently unless confused
by more mature mischief-makers. New comers who rioted were
treated leniently by the courts, or sometimes not brought before the
courts at all.^
This is one of the most striking features of the exploitation of Haitian
workers in the Dominican Republic. In her study on capitalism and
population surpluses in the Dominican Republic, Isis Duarte agrees with
Rodney's views. To support her conclusions she quotes appropriately the
historian Roberto Cassá:
(...) Only very low wages could ensure economic viability to the
plantations. (...) The low level of these salaries compared to income
generated normally on small agricultural enterprises explains, to a
great extent, the large proportion of foreign workers employed full
time or during most of the year, in the capitalist agricultural
enterprises.®^
To the enormous satisfaction of the Consejo Estatal del Azúcar (CEA)
(the State Sugar Board) of the Dominican Republic, the Government of the
Republic of Haiti hinders the "creolization" of these latter-day indentured
labourers. Negotiating on their behalf and without their involvement, it
prevents the workers from applying the lessons of experience to negotiate
their living conditions. Murphy asserts that the anba fil (the worker who
59
sneaks across the border) is better able to defend his interests than the
bracero (the legally hired worker)7®
The role that creolization played in the nineteenth century, when it
was an absolute precondition for protest, explains the importance that
it had had in the eighteenth century. In order to understand how an
individual who had no knowledge whatever of the norms of a given
plantation society suddenly became more useful than the Creole and
the creolized person, one must make a combined study of the cultural
systems and the concrete social relations among groups of individuals.
A comparative reading of Duarte and Rodney would show that Guyana
and Dominican Republic have more in common than could be thought
at first sight.
In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, those groupings emerged
from two social categories: the planter, who represented the capital factor,
and the freedman, who represented the labour factor. Unlike what had
occurred during slavery, the freedmen were in a position to band together
and to defend their interests as best they could. Given this situation, the
planter considered the seaso/i/ng period as the most productive stage in the
life of the migrant worker, the stage in which he has not yet learnt to defend
himself against abuses.
The plantation system perpetuates itself by renewing indefinitely the
need for creolization. but it is not in its objectives to creolize anybody.
5. The reproduction of the bossate
The first attempt to explain the behaviourial patterns of the Caribbean
population on the basis of their participation in a Creole culture that bore the
strong imprint of Europe dates back to the de-colonization period. It describes
the self-assurance of the intellectual elites who took control of the workers'
trade unions and used them to control government. The familiarity of these
elites with the official institutions explains the role they played and also why
their status and theirfiinctionssuited the objectives of the overall social system.
Since the issue at stake was that of de-colonization, protests were
£tamed by the dichotomy nég v. blan, but would still be unable to overcome
the cleavages separating the secondary categories kréol v. bosal. For some
sectors within the elites, the freedmen had no formal schooling, while for
other sectors, they had no political consciousness.
Seen from this perspective, the virtues of the Creoles mistaken for those
of the freedmen were enshrined as the paradigm of the Caribbean society.
The traditional indentured labourers (Indian, Oiinese, Javanese) were the
60
only category that challenged the perception of an homogeneous Creole
culture, conceived of as a European culture altered "to suit the local
conditions".
The case becomes crystal clear by comparing the situation in Guyana
and in the Dominican Republic and avoiding playing with words. The new
indentured (coming basically from Haiti) cannot be accommodated into the
Latin-flavoured Creole culture of the Dominican Republic, no more than
the classical indentured from India can be assimilated in the half-saxon,
half-African Creole culture of Guyana. The Haitians will never be
Dominican Republic Creoles, no more than the East Indians will become
Guyanese Creoles.
The newly indentured labourers and the peasant majorities,
conveniently treated as negligible quantities, were stripped of their cultural
idiosyncrasies, which were now seen as mere vestiges or traces of African
culture. Their black skin was held up as evidence of homogeneity. One
spoke of "race" and "class" in this cultural context whose variety appeared
merely a reproduction of the differences between the various metropolitan
powers. And whitening, in one form or another, seemed to be the fate of the
entire Caribbean.^^
Today, after the euphoria of accession to independence has faded and
development strategies elaborated then have been exhausted, we must raise
certain other questions and gradually forget the creolization theories.
The studies previously referred to attest to the continuity of the official
institutions that governed daily life before and after emancipation. In
analyzing the present situation of the labour force on the Dominican
plantations, André Corten writes:
The migration of the Haitian workers to the Dominican Republic
is very much like the former slave trade. It constitutes (...) an actual
slave trade. (...) This slave trade (...) indicates the deep
interpenetration of economics and politics in the regressive
capitalist relationships.^^
Speaking of the living conditions of the Haitian workers in the
Dominican Republic, M.F. Murphy concludes:
It is the contention of the present author that the statiis under which
the Haitian worker labors, in the Dominican Republic is not slavery.
However, the conditions under which he lives and works are worse
than the conditions present under the plantation slavery systems of
the Caribbean in the past centuries.
Given the changes -imposed from outside- in the basic social
categories and in the mechanisms for labour negotiations, the common
61
denominator between the societies before and after independence was not,
in the final analysis, the continuing operations of main colonial institutions,
but rather the relentless efforts to adapt metropolitan cultural development
to the Caribbean setting. It should be recognized, however, that this attempt
at adaptation was not typical of the Caribbean population as a whole.
The organization of the daily life of the Caribbean peoples should not
therefore be envisaged as a tropical version of European culture. One could
perhaps argue that the State sought to integrate them into this so-called
Creole culture and to whiten them. But this official ideology -which is
doubtlessly shared by a large section of the population- has not been
reflected in a set of concrete measures aimed at achieving this objective.
Export agriculture, which the Caribbean States encouraged, was not
designed to ensure the expansion of the population of the islands, nor did it
seek to improve their living standards and to integrate them more fully into
a modified European or Creole culture. For convincing proof of this, one
need only recall the evolution of the "daily wages" that were paid for close
to a century.^'*
It is hard to conceive of a society in which the remuneration paid to the
workers of the major enterprises does not ensure a minimum standard of
living and in which the State at the same time strives to promote the
standards and values governing the use of the minimum wage. In such a
society, the State does not seek to achieve a horaogenization of private
life-styles, and therefore there cannot be a single cultural policy in respect
of the entire population.
The efforts by the State were resolutely set against creolization. After
general emancipation, the plantations could only function by putting a brake
on this process or destroying its effects by recruiting large numbers of
immigrants, in other words, new bossales. In view of the social relations
which the local authorities allowed to develop around the piecework system,
they implicitly accepted that illiteracy, malnutrition, deplorable health and
housing conditions, as well as ignorance of the rules of the game in any
given locality, were factors favourable to the development of plantation
agriculture.
j
Like their predecessors who strove to keep alive the memory of distant
India, the immigrants -these new indentured labourers-, cut off from their
national societies, cultivated their loyalty to their country or culture of
origin. In order to protect themselves collectively, they reinforced their
marginality and their character of newly arrived labourers or bossales. They
became ethnic enclaves ignored by the national political authorities and by
the opposition parties, both in their countries of origin and in their host
62
societies. They consequently found themselves at the mercy of the
transnational companies and of the Creole planters, which caused the local
working classes to despise them even more.
A comparative study of the past or present labour relations Jamaicans
and Haitians in Cuba, the cocolos and Haitians in the Dominican Republic,
the immigrants from Saint Vincent and Grenada in Barbados or Trinidad
and the workers from the so-called English-speaking Caribbean in Panama,
Honduras, Nicaragua or Costa Rica would further contribute to Rodney's
analyses of the workers of Guyana. With respect to the former British
colonies, an article by Dawn I. Marshall underlines the extent of the
migratory movements which, in one of the periods identified by her, reduced
the size of the total population in most of these territories.^^ Moreover, the
article points out how the negotiations between the planters and agricultural
workers repeat at the regional level what Rodney observed in Guyana.
A comparative study of the regional labour force would reveal a
preference by the agro-export enterprises for a labour force which has no
access to the political systems in which working conditions are established.
It would expose the reasons for and the effect of the discriminatory measures
against migrant workers. It would show how the refusal to permit them to
integrate into the host societies creates a vicious circle which reinforces the
marginalization of the national agricultural workers, to the benefit of only
the planters and the agro-industrial companies. This study would show how
the discrimination suffered by the newly indentured labourers, all of them
non-whites, is an extension of a certain form of European culture thought
to be outmoded.
The agricultural worker in the Caribbean does not yet enjoy the civil
and political rights that were won by the European working classes in the
nineteenth cenmry. In order to deserve some attention, the creolization
process should focus on the dissemination and implementation of these
norms and standards. As they lacked any real protection, the majority of the
population reproduced and multiplied outside of the dominant economic
and cultural systems, and despite official policies. This social area located
outside the dominant system is referred to here as the counter-plantation
system.
6. Freedmen and the political impasse
Colonialism is simply the combining of the economic and political
marginality of the populations concerned. The colonial State dictated the
distribution patterns of the only means of production available: land. But
63
its monopoly over the land, or more accurately its concession of that land
to the planters, turned all the principles of a market economy upside down.
The fn-oliferation of the piecework system was a reflection of the search for
survival options within an institutional framework imposed from outside.
Plantation could never sustain prolonged competition with enterprises
whose type of labour relations required a constant improvement of
technology and increasingly higher levels of training -and, therefore of
living standards- of their labour force. The survival of export-oriented
plantation was entirely dependent on the colonial system. By forcing the
freedmen into only marginal economic activities, the institution which hired
them was doomed to disappear.
Since it was impossible to render the supply of labour totally elastic and
to deprive it of all possibility of negotiations, as during the height of the
slave trade, the colonial State countered the scarcity of labour and destroyed
the system of labour relations by splitting up the products of labour and
imposing monopolistic competition. Forced to resort to marginal activities,
the labour force, by definition, loses all significant economic value.
In order to comprehend the colonial situation properly, attention
should be paid to certain linguistic ambiguities that tend to obscure
day-to-day relationships. In regulating Caribbean social life, the official
institutions resorted to basic concepts which were developed in the
metropolises. Studies of Caribbean societies generally use these same
concepts and treat local phenomena as approximations of metropolitan
phenomena. In the area of economic production, reference is made to
monopolies, labour contracts, work days, wages, strikes, trade unions,
etc., where none necessarily existed.
If one studies the patterns of manpower use that predominated after the
abolition of slavery, one discovers a model to describe the Caribbean
societies which differs from the metropolitan paradigm. Before
emancipation, a single economic agent owned both labour and capital, and
economic relations were unknown within these societies. The fundamental
social categories -planters and slaves- were defined at the level of political
structures.
After emancipation and by unilateral decision of the metropolises, the
ownership of capital was separated from the ownership of labour. From then
on there were two economic agents representing two basic social categories,
namely, the freedmen and the planters. While there were several types of
freedmen, they all maintained the same relationship to capital.
The freedmen produced raw materials on the marginal pieces of land
which they owned, on small plots of land leased to them or on the properties
64
of the planters themselves. Raw materials were brought to the factory
(which was sometimes owned by these same planters), where they were
processed and then sold on the international market.
As a rule, it was not until after the total value of the product to be
exported was determined that the cost of raw materials was set and the
producers paid. The efforts made to produce raw materials or the time
devoted to it was not regulated in any way, nor was it the subject of any
institutionalized negotiation.
Because relationshifs - o r the absence of relationships- between the
planters and freedmen were guaranteed by the colonial State, groups of
individuals and voluntary associations constantly demanded that the
authorities protect their privileges and rights or arbitrate their disputes. The
relationship between the agricultural workers' "unions" and the political
parties placed negotiations between capital and labour in the appropriate
context, that is to say, the framework of colonialism (of the blan-nég
dichotomy).
"Workers" negotiations cannot be separated from national liberation
struggles. The success of such negotiations signified the plantation's death
warrant. The sugar cane producers went bankrupt and sugar cane was
replaced by bananas, a product rather more suited to small peasant farming.
This type of farming will be examined in a later chapter, and we shall see
that it failed to change the asymmetric relations between the planters and
freedmen.
This type of negotiation challenged the entire institutional system, and
assumed that the leaders had a broader social vision or experience than the
workers and agricultural labourers. The population of freedmen did not
therefore control all the consequences of the protest movements, and the
leaders enjoyed a remarkable degree of autonomy.
The distance between the political leaders and the mass of the electorate
seems to have made it possible, after independence, to tone down the issue of
legitimizing the new institutional structures through the popularity or
legitimization of the leadership. During this first phase of de-colonization,
individuals rather than institutions or laws govemed the Caribbean countries.
Ironically, the completion of the national liberation process created
difficulties for the labour or socialist parties, which had great difficulty in
consolidating their political successes by improving the living standards of
their electorate. The bankruptcy of the plantation economy had a heavy
bearing on their political successes.
The position of the elites in power rapidly became very uncomfortable.
On the one hand, the electorate did not forget their early speeches inspired
65
by the anti-colonialist fervour. On the other hand, the same electorate,
however much it may have wanted to be loyal, finally realized that the
system of export agriculture being practised could not meet their aspirations
for greater economic and social well-being.
The misunderstanding of the nature of the freedman, who constituted
the key element of the Caribbean labour force, and the preconceived ideas
which made it impossible to grasp the rationale behind his reproduction,
derived from the age-old divisions which separated the groups of
individuals that belonged to the dominant and subordinate classes. The
plantation system, by destroying or in the best of cases driving out its human
resources, by the same token deprived their administrators of the chance to
understand them. This centrifugal effect created and constantly refuelled a
regional system of social relations which was also poorly understood. This
will be the subject of the following chapter.
The modem Caribbean was bom of this attempt to overcome the
privations which the plantation society imposed on its workers. And it is
thanks to that effort of striving to improve their working conditions that the
freedmen forged for themselves national identities that were distinct from
the colonial heritage. We shall seek to identify the bases of these identities
in the course of the present study and, in so doing, to compile the additional
background information needed for a description of contemporary societies.
66
Chapter 4
THE CARIBBEAN REGIONS
1. Introduction
The region as defined for geopolitical purposes does not coincide with the
notion of region that underlies nation building projects. The term region
refers to a unit of analysis and action, whose content and shape are defined
by the purposes of the observer. Without the perspective of the observer
there is no region. Any regional analysis is necessarily subjective.
The complementarity of the characteristics which help to give
continuity to a region becomes necessarily blurred and disappears at its
periphery. At that point, the exchanges which occur because of proximity
or contiguity do not eliminate the possibility of distinguishing between
adjoining regions.
A region is defined either by the agglutinating effects of a pole or
nucleus on differentiated sub-sets of the same type, or by the
complementarity or interdependence linking a group of attributes and
explaining the similarity between homogeneous sub-sets.
The relationships of complementarity typical of the polarized
regions are quite distinct from those underlying the homogeneous ones,
as are the intervention projects that derive from one or the other method
of analysis. In the first case, it is the material interactions among the
sub-sets that distinguish the nucleus from its periphery and foster a
possible hierarchical order in the latter. In the second case, the regional
continuum is explained by the logical relationships between given
characteristics.
Relationships of complementarity of varying origin and type criss-cross
the geographical space and provide choices for studies and forms of
intervention. The superimposition of various forms of regionalization is
inevitable, since divergent interests attempt to impose themselves by using
the same finite set of resources.
67
Depending on his perspective, the observer may rightly speak of the
Archipelago of the Antilles, the Greater and Lesser Antilles, the
English-speaking, Spanish-speaking or other Caribbean, or of the Basin of
the Caribbean Sea, or simply of the Caribbean... Each of these delimitations
of the region, however, refers only to sub-units of the same order. For
example, in order to include Haiti, Barbados, Cozumel and San Andrés in
the same definition of the region, one must ignore political phenomena and
focus exclusively on physical geography.
While the concept of region expresses a spatial configuration, it also
reflects a historical perspective. The definition of a region, such as the
Caribbean, on the basis of its physical characteristics takes place within a
time horizon which conesponds to the duration of geophysical formations.
In this case, the historical dimension plays a secondary role, given the pace
of evolution of the factors considered. Recently, new ecological concerns
have modified these methodological approaches.
In the same way as the complementarity of characteristics which define
a homogeneous region cannot be geographically situated, the pull of the
polarized region's centre does not depend on its geographical location. The
effects of attraction and repulsion are a set of social relationships set in
motion by the nucleus of the region through the spill-over effect of its
internal conflicts.
A central core occupies a primarily sociological space, which generates
the vectors propelled by the dynamism of its own constituent parts. Its
polarization effects project in one direction or another, in search of the
resources needed to solve its domestic problems. One could thus specify
the dates of a region's birth or death by observing the effects of the
polarization of its centre of gravity, or else by observing the evolution of
the internal conflicts which they reflect. This history is none other than that
of human groups, and seen in this light, the concept of the polarized region
is of great relevance for the present study, since it helps to distinguish
between outward and inward processes.
2. The Caribbean of the plantations
The "discovery" of the Caribbean by Christopher Columbus in 1493 and
the takeover by the English of Dominica in 1763 marked the beginning and
the end, respectively, of the destruction of a region organized by the Caribs,
supplanting the first known aboriginals. These historical facts are often not
recalled, and with good reason, despite the elements of continuity between
the Amerindian period and the subsequent one.
68
The history of Dominica, the Dominican Republic, Haiti, Saint Vincent,
Trinidad, Suriname, Guyana, French Guyana and Belize is evidence of the
close relations that existed between the Amerindians and the newcomers.
There we will see that these relations gave shape to a region, separate and
distinct but no less real than the one created by the plantation system.
The present study deals with relationships among social groups. It
defines the Caribbean as a region of the Americas, comprising countries
which maintain worldwide, regional and internal relationships
characterized or profoundly influenced by the predominance of the
plantation economy.
' The Europeans invented and organized plantation America, namely, a
social and economic system which they were in a position to establish with
no regard for the approval or disapproval of the social categories and groups.
The power relations which they set up were taboo and fell far short of any
participation or legitimization by the populations concerned.
The futility of consensus or social cohesion in the administration of the
colonial Caribbean was due to the way the region's resources were centrally
controlled by the Western powers. The system of relations was completely
outward-oriented, and the European pole determined the value of the least
of those resources.
The relationships of complementarity between Europe and its periphery
split up and dismembered the Caribbean universe and rearranged its parts
into a completely new entity that could be more easily absorbed and
appropriated. At the same time, Europe sought at all costs to deny an
independent existence to the residue to be absorbed and appropriated.
In the European colonies of the Caribbean, social relations evolved in
the shadow of actual or virtual military occupation. The interactions
between social categories and groups took place or were expected to take
place in a manner determined by the power relations.
During the entire period under study, economic negotiations in
particular reflected political dictates. The outward orientation of the
dominant groups rendered futile any relationship among themselves, and
any alliance aimed at opposing the designs of their respective metropolis
was inconceivable.
In a colonial State, and without doubt during slavery, the population as
a whole was by definition prevented from participating in institutionalized
political relationships. After emancipation, the nominal granting of political
rights did not change the situation, since the exercise of those rights was
conditioned on the ownership of land and property to which the system
denied the population access.
69
Participation in the world economy was dependent on the exploitation
of large estates which the metropolis placed at the disposal of its planters.
It was combined with a participation in world politics and culture through
the politics and culture of the European empires.
Conversely, agricultural work, illiteracy, and the experience of only the
national culture became the lot of those -the vast majority-who were denied
a voice in political matters. A huge gulf separated the planter class and their
descendants from the enslaved and their offspring, despite the emergence
of a minuscule intermediate class.
The balkanization of the region was perpetuated by the rifts that
separated the social groups in each territory. These cleavages tended to
prevent the formation of cohesive societies and nations which included the
dominant sectors.^^ Possession of large estates (that is to say access to the
land appropriated by the colonial State), cultivation and export of food crops
(or participation in the international market), as well as the exercise of
political rights and access to official institutions, together constituted an
integrated set of privileges that characterized social domination.
The internationalization of the peripheral economies is not a new
phenomenon in the Caribbean. Its further development during the twentieth
century does not change the traditional colonial characteristics of the region
in any way. The norms governing the appropriation of economic goods and
the organization of productive factors leave only marginal resources to be
devoted to the needs of the local population.
The context in which the modem Caribbean took form and evolved has
deprived of its value whatever was specifically Caribbean, or what the
Caribbean created for the Caribbean people. Before and after political
independence, the plantation system brought about a total economic
dependency which was intrinsically bound up with the balkanization of the
region and with the fragmentation and dismemberment of societies which
had been trying with difficulty to structure themselves.
Social life during the colonial period displayed the following
characteristics:
a) The relationship between labour and capital was decided at the level
of the relationship between existing political forces, and economic
negotiation was reduced to a minimum;
b) Politics limited economic viability to only those enterprises
supplying the external markets and to their attendant service activities;
c) Manual and non-manual jobs were performed in different contexts
and, in the majority of cases, in different languages;
70
d) Wage relations were confined to non-manual activities and to the
service sector;
e) Measures were adopted to prevent the emergence of labour
markets;
Q The governments sought to satisfy local needs only in so far as those
needs related to export activities'^ Those needs were met from the marginal
resources that were not monopolized by the colonial State and its
representatives.
g) The spill-over responsibilities placed upon individual families and
groups of families in rural communities and urban shantytowns gave rise to
an "unacknowledged" civil society.
In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, the colonial administration of
Caribbean resources brought Europe very few economic advantages and
could be justified only from a strategic viewpoint. After the First World
War, however, the geopolitical map was redrawn. The situation was further
modified because of the Great Depression. As a result of these
developments the relationships between the centre and the periphery as well
as control over Caribbean resources were challenged.
Income obtained from services provided to export activities in decline
was no longer enough to meet the population's basic needs. More intensive
use of local resources -of that residue that Europeans persisted in ignoringhad now become necessary.
Greater administrative autonomy was granted to the territories. In most
of the countries of the region, for the first time, a correlative legitimization
of the power structures became functionally indispensable to the
maintenance of law and order.
As the Caribbean societies were transformed into nation-States, a
number of theoretical problems arose as a result of the perpetuation of the
plantation system as the economic base of the society. Except for the Haiti
of 1804, in contrast to the Haiti of 1934, the transition from colonial status
to political independence did not produce any real change in the productive
apparatus. Change occurred when the plantation system went bankrupt and
when even generous subsidies, bonuses, quotas and preferential treatment
proved incapable of ensuring ite survival.
Most of the territories theoretically organized themselves into sovereign
States which required legitimate governments for their operation. Plantation
America cared little for self-contained economic mechanisms and had no
tradition of protecting peasant agriculture, no vision of equality between the
agricultural workers and wage-earners in the secondary and tertiary sectors,
and no notion of food self-sufficiency.
71
The collapse of the plantations created an economic vacuum, out of
which the countries of the region then had to create a social organization
which would give their citizens economic, civil and political rights similar
to those enjoyed by the citizens of the States that provided the models for
their new constitutions. This task was made all the more difficult because
the independence of the plantation Caribbean occurred at a time when
practically no distance separated the former colonies from their
metropolises, and when they were subjected to a continuous bombardment
of constantly renewed demonstration effects.
Thus, in practice, the economic crises that prevailed at the granting of
independence, which obviously did not have the same origins as those that
affected the world economy, compelled the typical Caribbean State to retain
the patterns of manpower use described in the previous chapter, the
justification of which served as a social contract that united the dominant
classes.
A bizarre system of private enterprise emerged, to be described in
chapter 6, which disregarded even the most rudimentary principles of
market economies. The functioning of this type of enterprise is incompatible
with the survival of popular political regimes.
The economic strategy of the independent plantation societies is based
on their comparative advantages within the world economy. These societies
offer the employers a cheap labour force located close to the large
consumption centres.^® In the race for foreign capital, the winner is usually
the one who places on the international labour market the cheapest labour.
In order to absorb the surplus labour, the current development strategy
does not seek to industrialize the plantation societies but to move from
export agriculture to export processing zones.
Subcontracting enterprises are characterized by the suddenness with
which they disappear without leaving a trace. The State then has to create
a climate which makes it possible to retain these providers of jobs.
The irony of this development formula is that, in the end, absolute
poverty becomes the best trump card in negotiations between capital and
labour. The more underdeveloped a country, the more it attracts investors.
Total deprivation is then promoted as the best condition for development.^^
By acting in this way, the Caribbean economic planning authorities
accept that the populations they serve will always be poorer than their
neighbours. They vie with one another to make their fellow citizens the
second class recipients of economic and social progress.
The agreements signed between poor countries in an attempt to mitigate
the damage caused by unbridled competition prove just how far that trend
72
has spread. Viewed in the most favourable light and assuming an
inconceivable saturation of the local labour market, this development
strategy seeks to convert the absolute poverty of the newly freed population
of the Caribbean into a relative poverty.®®
This explains why the independent and sovereign States of the
region encounter more difficulties in meeting the aspirations of their
peoples than do the administrators of territories still under tutelage,
where certain metropolitan laws governing the hiring of labour have to
be observed.
The independent Caribbean is therefore characterized by a scenario of
chronic political instability. This instability sometimes takes the form of the
institutionalized alternating of regimes that are equally incapable of
breaking out of the vicious circle of poverty or to counter the influence of
the life-styles of the rich countries.
The development model advocated is slightly different in countries
where the exploitation of the resources of the subsoil makes it possible to
compensate for the gradual bankruptcy of plantation agriculture and to resist
the lure of the export processing industries. Unfortunately, the exploitation
of non-renewable resources does not lead to a model which is fundamentally
different from the above-mentioned one.
Since it was unable to organize the national populations into
sociopolitical systems capable of satisfying their aspirations, the
plantation-based Caribbean was obliged to maintain law and order by
resorting -although not always with the desirable decorum- to external
military and political patronage. In the final analysis, the metroj)olises
retained their role as arbitrators of national conflicts and were called to the
rescue whenever the chosen development model was endangered.
The Great Powers could thus pursue their geopolitical aims because
they had the consent of either the existing governments or those ready to
replace any recalcitrant regime in the next elections.
The transition from a colonial to a national economy promoted the
further development of the only activity which brought unquestioned
success in the plantation societies, namely, public administration and
service activities ensuring its smooth operation. Once independence was
attained, the traditional role of the urban "middle classes" was strengthened
by the localization of the management of political power.
The deterioration of the productive bases of the society had a
concomitant effect on the growth of the service sector. During the colonial
period, this sector was increasingly financed from customs receipts and
earnings from abroad: spin-offs from tourist services, outlays by assembly
73
industries, repatriation of funds by nationals living abroad, international
grants in aid, etc.
Civil servants and other workers in the service sector tend to become
the key players in a social order beset by a growing economic malaise.
One should also include within these sectors, which like to be referred
to as the "middle classes", the few workers employed by transnational
companies.
Faced with demands for the legitimization of power which
accompanied administrative autonomy and political independence, and in
order to overcome the divisions within the ranks of the newly-freed
population, the urban "middle classes" converted their own needs and
aspirations into national goals. This was the period during which the theories
of creolization gained currency.
The rhetoric of creolization did not however, offer the masses any new
options. It proved incapable of putting a rein on the advance of protest
movements, such as those oi Black Power in Trinidad, of the Rastafari in
Jamaica or of the Dreads in Dominica.
As they try to respond to the demands of the "middle classes", the
governments and the State machinery provide broader sectors of the
population with the necessary means of access to the metropolitan labour
market. But they seem incapable of devising a societal project that will
retain workers in their own country.
The real demands for food, housing and clothing go far beyond the
production and trade possibilities of the traditional economies and of their
successive reformulations. Presently, access to sources of employment in
the industrialized countries as well as to consumer goods and imported
semi-durable goods remains one of the most clearly stated demands of the
region's population.
The management of power relations is being localized. The
legitimization implied in this localization cannot be satisfied by local
material resources. The plantation-based Caribbean seems therefore to be
disintegrating at an accelerated pace.
Given the difficulty encountered by the countries of the region in
defining strictly local demands and in satisfying these demands from land
resources, many analysts are unable to conceive of the region in terms of
what it creates instead of what is imposed on it. In fact, from the description
given above it follows that the definition of the Caribbean as
plantation-America applies to a non-region. It comprises an empty set, or a
set constantiy emptied by a centrifugal dynamic.
74
This part of America in which the economic base of the nation-State is
formed by its export activities cannot achieve either regional integration or
the consensus needed for nation-building processes.
Given its inherent extroversion -which constitutes the reverse side of
the polarization effects of the European nuclei-, the plantation defines a
regional environment only through those criteria it negates. It emphasizes
what the Caribbean is not, and never gives a glimpse of what it can be.
Approaching the subject from another angle of analysis, Sidney
W. Mintz reached the same conclusion in his classic study entitled
"Caribbean Nationhood in Anthropological Perspective":
The argument so far suggests that the plantation system partially
interdicted societal coherence at two levels of local group formation
in Caribbean colonial societies: the community level on the one
hand, and the familial or domestic level on the other. It also implies
that these effects in turn limited the modes of integration of family
groups and communities with larger social groupings -the total
insular society or "nation"- and with national institutional
frameworks, such as the educational system, the political system,
national religions, and the like. The workings of these negative
effects are perhaps most clearly revealed by the extent to which the
bipolar structures of traditional plantation societies have persisted
into the present, expressed today in highly differentiated modes of
mating and domestic organizations, the relative paucity of local
community organization, the limited participation of citizen masses
in national political decision-making, the communication among
the different strata of the social order. It is not only the presence or
absence of intermediate social groupings that matters in weighing
the importance of these after-effects, but also the ideologies of
identity of such groupings.®^
Moreover, even if the plantation system were to succeed in giving form
and content to a society by explaining the nature and evolution of its
specificity, the peoples of the Caribbean would not be able to lay claim to
its positive or negative achievements. The plantation was originally a
European institution, which was projected, organized and governed
according to European laws to serve European interests.
The plantation was conceived from the start on the assumtion of an
enslaved labour force. Since it was the product of European thinking, this
form of slavery was spelled out in the laws and regulations that originated
in Europe and enforced by a considerable number of institutions all of which
pursued goals consonant with the purposes of the metropolises.
75
The truth, however, is that there were no plantations in Europe worth
mentioning and that Europeans did not keep their labour force in captivity.
Since the Caribbean was the cradle of the slave plantation, one is inclined
to conceive of this institution and of the moral and other persons associated
with it as indigenous and locally based, which creates considerable
confusion.
A number of questions and answers concerning the formulation of a
project for a Caribbean society are essential here. How can one separate this
view of the Caribbean - a physical space where phenomena and
relationships of all types occurred- from a view centred around the
realization of local potential and its own internal dynamism? To what end
could any initiatives taken by the inhabitants of the Caribbean lead? What
has been projected, organized and governed according to Caribbean laws
to serve Caribbean needs?
With regard to these concerns, the existence of a counter-plantation
system might explain the past and the future of the region.
If the elements of Caribbean unity and coherence -which the plantation
system is incapable of generating- were to disappear, total balkanization
would result, i.e., the mere juxtaposition of components defined by forces
emanating from a pole of attraction. Yesterday that pole was Europe; today
it is the United States; tomorrow, who knows? From a socio-political entity
in full process of structuralization, the region would be converted into a
physical environment with a most uncertain future.
3. The paradoxical consequence of colonialism
To claim that the slave plantation is a product of European minds which
later developed and flourished in the Caribbean, is equivalent to certifying
it as a Creole institution. The slave plantation was in fact the core of the
colonial society, the source of coherence for its most significant social
relationships.
To say furthermore that the local population cannot lay claim to the
good or bad deeds of the plantation is to assert that the Creoles are not
architects of their own destiny and that they have no control over their own
affairs. This is also equivalent to saying that by implication the Creole
culture is a mere imitation of its central nucleus, namely Europe. The Creole
world is stripped of any kind of personality, of any itinerary which is likely
to divert it from the aims and objectives of the West.
A colonized territory is brought into the geographical scope of the
metropolis for quite specific purposes, but the pursuit of these goals is only
76
one aspect of colonial history. In a plantation system, given the exploitation
to which workers are subjected, they are deprived not only of what can be
considered as minimum living conditions but also of any possibility of
negotiating some improvement in their working conditions with the
authorities. They have therefore no opportunity of imitating or copying the
private life of the colonizers and of living in the Oeole style.
The Creole character of the Caribbean population does not account
for its uniqueness. A Creole from Tobago is not a Creole from Trinidad,
and any Creole can come from Trinidad, Tobago, Saint Lucia or even
from Venezuela, Colombia, Mexico, etc. It is the fact of belonging to
Antigua, Tobago, or Saint Lucia which distinguishes the inhabitants of
the region.
Despite the assimilation of the labour force advocated by the former
metropolises, the relationships of solidarity and loyalty observed in the
history of each of the tenitories provides the outline for a new regional
identity.
The most obvious means of identification arising out of the groups of
individuals organized during the colonial f>eriod generally goes unnoticed.
While the planters and colonial authorities came from only a few different
European nations, the enslaved labour force, whose ranks were swollen by
many indentured labourers from three regions of Asia and from Europe
itself, came primarily from a host of African nations.
As time went by, the population ceased to define itself as British,
French, Dutch, Spanish or as a group of Creoles bom of the British, French, Dutch and Spanish settlers. From these immigrants who came from
everywhere, groups emerged who called themselves Jamaicans,
Guadeloupeans, Guyanese, etc.
Neither the establishment of a slave regime nor the regulation of
piecework was designed to increase the well-being of the enslaved or of the
freedmen or the gradual improvement of their living conditions. The local
population survived and multiplied by creating life-styles which were not
governed by the political or economic decisions of the colony.
The plantocracies were constantly adapting to the metropolises. The
local population made use of their knowledge of the fundamental institution
and of its support mechanisms in order to adapt to these changes.
The divergence between the people's systems of knowledge and the
planters' was due to different social orientations. The planters were guided
by the induction effects from the European pole, while the freedmen were
guided by their experience. With each passing day their judgement
improved and their behaviour became more refined.
77
The changes in the plantation system coincided with those of the effects
of polarization originating from the central economies. The influence of
these economies was transmitted by the international market. In chapter 6,
we shall describe the subterfuge to which the plantation system resorted so
as to carve out a place for itself. Let us just remember that the plantation is
a European recipe (an institution-norm) one of whose ingredients, the labour
force, has a Caribbean history.
The Europeans are entitled to assess their influence on the life-styles
and standards of a region which they owned. They are even within their
rights in deciding on the mixed nature-i.e., part-European, part-African and
part-Indian, of the latter.
In order to help overcome the obstacles hindering the development of
the Creole Caribbean, this line of thinking should show how colonial Europe
promoted the control and exploitation of those marginal resources which
eluded its monopoly. The peasantry can be viewed as a offshoot of the
plantation system, and the freedman as a disciple of the planter or of the
colonial authorities to the same extent that the display of human solidarity
is accounted for by the fury of a hurricane.
Autonomous life-styles created by the population flourished within the
framework of the counter-plantation system, which reached its zenith after
emancipation. The population found itself in a position to implement its
own societal projects as soon as the State put an end to the
institutionalization of the planters' monopoly (of capital) over labour.
Denied of any means of production integrated into the dominant economic
system, groups of freedmen united to occupy geographically, economically
or socially "inaccessible" areas.
The importance of the peasants does not stem from the areas that they
farmed, their number, their contribution to the national income, their
influence on the institutionalized political system or their involvement in
the establishment of official cultures. Caribbean peasants have never
enjoyed the respect won by their European counterparts, the moujiks or
yeomen, who are recognized as having a place, albeit a modest one, in the
network of social relationships.
The colonial system did not acknowledge Caribbean peasants as a social
category.®^ They were discriminated against as former slaves or indentured
labourers, persecuted as squatters or "vagrants" and humiliated because
they were illiterate or ignorant. They enjoyed only a few civil rights and no
political rights whatsoever.
The emergence of a peasantry in the Caribbean shows in practical terms
how normative social categories were transformed by groupings and
78
networks of groupings of individuals. The social category provided for by
the plantation society was that of the freedman, encompassing both the
peasant and the agricultural worker.
The other aspect of the history of colonization is that the colonized
people had to create a specific space in which to normalize their family and
community structures. Colonial exploitation therefore led paradoxically to
endogenous solutions.
The metropolises, in trying to impose new identities on the population
while failing to take the economic, political and cultural measures that were
indispensable to an integration process, compelled the labour force to create
forms of social life and consequently, cultural structures - a n oppressed
culture- radically different from what was intended by the officialdom of
the metropolises.
The influence of the peasantry was neither comprehended nor admitted
by the established powers and their intellectual elites. Its behaviour was
framed and protected by denigrated institutions which in turn it endeavours
to shield. Specific norms governed the establishment and the organization
of families, land ownership and access to property, the administration of the
domestic economy and peásant mutual aid, the development of rural
communities (free villages), religion and language. A system of life
flourished without the peasants concerning themselves unduly about the
patronage of the metropolis and its lieutenants.
This system which we call the counter-plantation®^ is a specific social
organization encompassing a variety of techniques invented by the workers
(enslaved, freedmen and indentured labourers) to oppose the owners and
their metropolitan countries. If no direct reference to this organization is
found in the official documents, it is precisely because the plantation system
did not envisage or conceive of the reproduction in situ of the labour force.
T h e p l a n t a t i o n n e c e s s a r i l y implied the e x i s t e n c e of a
counter-plantation, just as enslavement pre-supposed a form of
marronage^ This ambivalence was repeated in all the territories in the
Caribbean, although its form was not always the same. In some territories,
such as Santo Domingo in the eighteenth century and Cuba in the nineteenth,
plantation and counter-plantation societies were highly visible. Barbados
was mainly a plantation island, whereas most of the Caribbean countries
owing allegiance to Spain were, up to the eighteenth century, mainly
counter-plantation societies.
In the region dominated by Spain, the population was able to remove
itself from colonial influence without having to confront the fortresses that
had been established, not for the purpose of setting up a special economic
79
development model, but to "protect" the territories against the claims of
other Powers. The inhabitants of these islands dedicated themselves to
subsistence agriculture around isolated, scattered hamlets. When the State
decided, in the nineteenth century, to encourage the systematic exploitation
of the territories, the system of organization was sufficiently established to
withstand the impact of the plantation and to force it to import its labour
force.®^
The Caribbean countries occupied by Spain were the only ones where
slavery existed side by side with piecework and salaried labour in a single
system and sometimes on the same plantation. The present study deals rather
with the countries of the Caribbean which were colonized by the other
Euroj)ean Powers, where the plantation system preceded the emergence of
the peasantry.
The Caribbean is defined as the America of the plantations in so far as
it came out of a past marked by the development and decadence of the
plantation system. Far from being constructed on the basis of a life-style
imposed by the West, it had to invent its own building blocks in order to
overcome the devastation of the slave society.
The peoples of the Caribbean established themselves as a single nation
by striving to surmount the particularly difñcult conditions of exploitation
imposed upon them. The Caribbean social milieu was distinctly
characterized by substandard levels of living resulting from a context of
external and illegitimate violence aiming at removing all initiative from the
people. The Caribbean was endowed with a creativity whose very existence
attested to the failure of the mechanisms of colonial social domination,
while the difficulties preventing the expression of this creativity attest to the
effectiveness of such mechanisms.
Caribbean culture was created by human groupings in a
never-ending conflict with the dominant system. Because of their
creativity and genius, these groupings continually defied the system
which, nevertheless, served as a point of reference for them. Caribbean
culture is not the culture of the plantation society, rather it is a response
to the plantation society.
Similarly, the Caribbean as a structured region is also an unexpected
and ironic result of the balkanization inherent in the creation of exploitation
colonies. In the preceding chapter, we saw how the plantation society itself
destroyed the creolization processes that it produced. In order to restore the
rate of exploitation which creolization helped to diminish, it ignored the
local patterns of social intercourse and constantly resorted to immigrant
labour.
RO
This policy for recruiting labour enabled contact to be made between
homogeneous components of the region beyond imperial frontiers.
Migration within the region created self-centred exchanges and the
Caribbean emerged as an entity built on principles alien to the intentions of
the colonial empires. The remainder of the present chapter deals with the
creation of this structured Caribbean space.
4. The colonial city
The way in which the Caribbean is generally subdivided is reminiscent of
the colonial period. Since we can no longer speak of the English, French,
Dutch or Spanish Caribbean, we refer to the English-speaking,
French-speaking, Dutch-speaking or Spanish-speaking Caribbean.
It is well known, however, that the population of the Netherlands
Antilles does not use the Dutch language in its daily affairs. Tliis is also true
of the former British possessions of Saint Lucia and Dominica in particular,
where the bulk of the people speak a Creole which has no significant link
with the official language. In Suriname, as in Haiti, only a small minority
can speak the metropolitan languages. It is only in the former Spanish
colonies that Spanish is spoken in most circumstances.
With the exception of these last-mentioned colonies, what is the real
situation concealed behind these linguistic barriers that makes the
population both within and outside of the region, in both government and
academic circles, still adopt this subdivision of the region that harks back
to colonial times?
These official languages, which very few people speak in the course of
domestic activities, are the languages of public administration and the
service sectors in general. They are reserved for those who move in these
circles, namely, the city dwellers. The fact that they are used in the rural
environment simply proves the dominion of the city and its inhabitants over
the resources of the territory.
The rules of the colonial city established the framework in which private
life unfolded, without actually regulating the day to day affairs of the
population. Those rules were above all the expression of the will of the
metropolitan countries, of a need to negotiate with the outside world or of
participation at the upper echelons of public life.
During the colonial era, the Caribbean region can be viewed at two
levels. At the first level, the territories occupied by the same Power
displayed certain common characteristics, in particular homogeneous
political and administrative standards. The similarity of their forms of
81
government was therefore a result of the balkanization of the region.
Territories belonging to the same empire had no close links among
t h e m s e l v e s however, nor did they maintain relationships of
complementarity.
For nearly two centuries Dominica had for example, identical
political and administrative structures as Antigua and Saint Kitts, yet
these structures differed from those of Guadeloupe. Nevertheless,
because of the exchanges between Dominica and Guadeloupe, whose
history is older than that of European political institutions, the
populations of the two islands entertained relationships of another
kind, which the colonial authorities often regarded as criminal.
Conversely, exchanges between Dominica and Antigua were of
interest for Great Britain and for the urban sectors of these territories.
Nevertheless, the frequency of these exchanges remained insignificant,
in spite of their legal status.
At a second level of social relations, groups of individuals, because of
the domestic cleavages in the colonial societies, were autonomously in a
position to thwart the administrative regulations that hampered them in their
daily lives. Such initiatives were intended to meet local needs using
available resources, and originally formed the basis of the traditions on
which a self-centred social environment was built.
However embryonic they may have been, such local habits and
traditions gave the Caribbean its own unique structure and frontiers outside
of colonial compartments and efforts at homogenization/creolization within
these compartments. A number of obstacles hindered the evolution
prompted by this challenge to colonial order without threatening this
endogenous regional structure, the mechanisms of which will be described
in the last part of the present chapter. We will now try to explain the
ambiguity which characterises, at the first level of regionalization, the
conflicts between the metropolitan countries and the planters.
The institutions and groups which, in pursuit of metropolitan interests,
sought to channel exchanges both between and within each territory were
located in the towns, or more exactly in the colonial city. The Caribbean
city typically started out as a seaport. A nest of pirates, filibusters and
corsairs during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, it would be called
today a "military base" since it served as a support station during - wars
among the imperial powers.
This military base was also a trading post, a role which consolidated as
the plantations developed. The city became the meeting place for the
architects and engineers of the plantation society, that is to say, the colonial
82
administration, and those constructing the project, namely, the merchants,
planters and their representatives.
The first citizens defended the territory against the enemies of their
mother country while maintaining the order necessary for organizing
productive activities. The profitability of trade, in fact, depended much less
on the productivity of the colonial enterprises than on the good forttine of
military forces. Consequently, the development of the war industry
strengthened the role of relay station that the port played vis-a-vis its
hinterland.
Far from emerging from a rural countryside, the city thus created its
own countryside -or more correctly, a particular type of countryside. It saw
to it that the population was distributed according to the social categories
imposed by the metropolis. Moreover, it had to protect its internal structure
from the influence of the groupings of individuals that formed within the
colony. Elected assemblies were in operation for only very short periods of
time.
Its constitutional dependence on the metropolis did not permit the
colonial city to gradually establish an institutionalized system of arbitration
of the conflicts between the urban and rural sectors. What is more, the
project of development inherent in the structure of the colonial city
presumed that efforts at organizing rural resources to provide the population
concerned with the means of meeting its own needs would be thwarted.
However, the internal composition of this urban system did not permit it to
absorb either burdensome migrations from the neighbouring countryside.
The port was therefore isolated from the rural settlements, even though
this might not have been readily perceptible.®^ The primacy of city was due
to its relationships with the outer worid, which were much more important
than its interface with its own zone of influence.
Indeed, the size of the colonial cities and the extent of the services that
they offered to their inhabitants did not differ appreciably from the size of
villages or the services available in them. The urban nature of such an
agglomeration was determined rather by the military, administrative and
commercial functions that were assigned to ports and not to towns -and to
certain social categories within the population of the port.
Two different kinds of relationships linked the city to the countryside,
both of them sharing nonetheless a common feature, namely, the
non-participation of the local population in the management of its affairs.
There have been cases in which the port, severed from metropolitan
tutelage and devoid of any development project, was unable to impose any
form of socio-economic organization on the village societies. TTie latter
83
acquired the knowledge and techniques necessary for their own
reproduction and growth, cut off from the mainstream of international life.
In such cases, citizens and public administrators proved incapable of
transforming into constitutional law a situation of rural predominance that
defied current norms of international relations. These were islands in which
the peasant masses enjoyed a certain degree of autonomy and in which the
schism between city and country dwellers verged on divorce. This situation
existed during the eighteenth century in the Spanish colonies and during the
nineteenth century in Haiti.
In contrast with the above situation, there were territories in which the
colonial authorities imposed a production system closely linked to the world
market as well as the corresponding social order. There were two variants
of the latter case: that of the richer and more stable colonies on the one hand
and that of the poor colonies, or territories "ceded" to another Power under
the terms of peace treaties signed in Europe.
Barbados, Jamaica and Martinique fall into the first category in that
their capitals had special institutions in which planters and administrators
could arbitrate their disputes and decide on the treatment to be meted out to
the local population engaged in agricultural production. Already one can
see the seeds of conflicts of interest emerging between the political sector
and those responsible for economic management.
In the second variant, the differences between the colonial
administrators and the plantocracies appeared quite clearly. The successive
changes of colonial regimes led to the first mixing between the various
plantation systems and set off interactions within the same framework of
the political balkanization of the Caribbean.
The most serious shifts were due to the change in political direction in
France. Conflicts between a republican colonial administration and royalist
planters led to the migration of these colonists -accompanied by their
enslaved- to the sparsely populated territories occupied by Spain such as
Cuba or Trinidad, or to British-owned islands aS Dominica.
Conquest by England or the cession of certain territories previously
owned by France therefore led to the superimposition of British
administration on colonies which had French life-styles, such as Saint
Lucia, Dominica or Trinidad. The "adopted subjects" then retreated towards
the villages and rural areas, while the "legitimate subjects" of the Crown
would monopolize the colonial administration.
This shift of the French colonial city to a rural milieu did not take place
without friction. This sector of the plantocracy rebelled, and tried to
84
preserve its laws, courts, language, religion and schools. The conflicts lasted
for several decades.®^
Cities in the poor colonies are particularly important. Not only did they
reflect the close links between a colony and its metropolis, but they also
represented within each territory a condensed history of rivalries between
the various metropolises.
In the poorer colonies, planters of different nationalities formed
different interest groups and relationships between various territories never
led to alliances against the metropolis or metropolises, as occurred in Latin
America from the nineteenth century onwards. In colonial Caribbean such
alliances occurred later, when the United States prevailed in the
inter-imperialist rivalries in the region.
In the "ceded" territories, certain segments of the plantocracies were
discriminated against and marginalized and, lacking the protection of the
government, had to resort to locally available resources to ensure their own
development. Excluded from the colonial administration, these planters
were in a sense obliged to become country dwellers and to mingle with the
local population. These were the first planters cut off from their mother
country and obliged to gradually "go native".
These changes in the rural settings affected predominantly social and
cultural aspects. In Saint Lucia and Dominica, both French-lexicon based
Creole and Roman Catholicism reigned unchallenged. By contrast, the
linguistic history of Grenada and the Grenadines, the inhabitants of whose
countryside remained predominantly Catholic, was not as clearly defined.
In the case of Trinidad, the supremacy of English-based Creole over
French-based Creole, owed nothing to Port of Spain's influence.^
In summary, the ports remained the support stations of the colonial
Powers and helped to sustain the latter's monopoly over the resources of
their zones of influence. Nonetheless, while the conflicts between the
Powers did not prevent the balkanization of the region at the level of political
and economic structures, they did lead to intra-Caribbean migrations from
the end of the eighteenth century.
These initial migrations by both planters and enslaved tended to
homogenize the rural societies beyond the imperial frontiers and to produce
the first self-centred relations between segments of the regional
plantocracies. The role which the nationals of Powers defeated by England
played in spite of themselves, should be highlighted, as well as their
ambiguous opposition to colonialism and the origin of the cleavages within
the dominant groups.
85
As soon as England achieved a clear hegemonic position, the functioms
of the city became simpler, while its ethnic composition gained more
variety. The direct representatives of the metropolis installed themselves
at the top of the social ladder. They imposed their rules on the merchants,
who generally shared the same nationality. Gradually, administrators and
merchants dominated the planters, of whom individuals from all ethnic
backgrounds, including mulattoes, could b© found.
If it is still convenient to refer to the Caribbean today on the basis of its
colonial heritage, it is no doubt because the city and its citizens continue to
turn their backs on the hinterland. Created by external centres of power,
the Caribbean city is still trying to cling to its original vocation. Military
stronghold, trading post, administrative centre, it continues to be the
presence of the Western World in the region.
5.
The Caribbean experienced profound transformations after emancipation,
a time when England's interest in the region was on the wane. The
traditional plantation societies were in crisis and a set of activities designed
to meet local needs were set into motion by the newly freed who, despite
the measures taken by the colonial administration, strove to organize a
peasant economy.
After a period of some limited success, the counter-plantation itself also
encountered difficulties. It failed to meet its liquidity needs through
exchanges with an impoverished plantation economy. We shall return to
this last point in chapter 6.
In contrast with this situation, new agricultural frontiers opened up in
the south of the Caribbean, in Trinidad, in British Guiana and Suriname,
and in the north, in Cuba, the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico. In these
new frontiers, the colonial authorities launched an immigration policy
which attracted f«ople from the traditional plantation economy and from
the peasant economies of those islands where agricultural development
dated back to the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.
At the risk of being too schematic, it would be useful to summarize the
trajectory of the plantation in time and space. In the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries, the plantations tended to be English and French. It was
first established in the small islands. At the end of the eighteenth century
and during the nineteenth, it shifted to the larger and more sparsely inhabited
territories which Spain had seized since the Fifteenth century, or towards the
Caribbean territories of South America.
86
At üliie end of sine mmetecEtli and at the begimning of the twentieth
century, North Americam iuvestmeüts led to a shift away from the
archipelago to the still more extensive amd relatively untouched coastal
areas of Cfeniral America. The plamíatioE then took its place alongside the
Amerindian peasant economies and the Meso-American haciendas.
Research studies, today considered classic, were conducted into the fate
of the wealth extracted from the plantations. The economic studies are less
concerned with the course followed by capital than with the new roles it
performed by penetrating more complex forms of production together with
the impact of these production metliods on She reproduction and
transformation of the plantation systems.®® it would be wise to adopt the
same method in carrying out any study of social structures in the Caribbean.
The manpower which was forced out by the plantation set itself up
within other social milieux which it helped to change. From that position it
exercised a certain degree of influence on the societies of origin. The
trajectory of labour and its influence varied from one period to another
according to the types of social milieux into which it was received. Given
the cleavages between the social categories of the plantation societies, the
geographical mobility of the Caribbean labour force is a condition to its
Studies on the development of human resources would be more useful
if iiey soaght to clearly delineate the conditions under which populations
emigirate, the level of remuneraiion for labour in the territories of origin or
ihs iicst territories, the building up of savings among migrant workers, the
dss'::iri£t;oHi and volume of funds remitted, etc.
Ir. £ society founded upon excessive recourse to extra-economic
coercive measures, out-migration of the worldng population constitutes one
of the few mechanisms for endogenous transformation. The response of
groups of individuals to the problems posed by small and segmented social
pyramid are traditionally found in the context of geographical mobility.
Efforts at upward social mobility have historically been less effective.
The Caribbean nation and region were formed through migration. The
|X)Hlical and economic consequences of this reality so far fall outside the
scope of scientific reflection.
What should not seem strange in these processes of regional migration
is the fact that these migrations are in a way always incomplete. The
emigraKl, despite all the lessons and experiences, always dreams of
retuming to his native country.
The Garifunas or Black Caribs of Belize and Honduras do not fail to
veffierate even today Saint Vincesit, their mother country, after having
87
established themselves on the continent for two centuries. This return, real
or symbolic, is at the root of mutual relations among the diverse populations
of the region, and from this interconnectedness evolves a nation that is
expanding, albeit, looking inward into itself.
George Beckford and Michael Witter consider migration to be among
the forms of resistance of the Jamaican population:
(...) there were other responses to oppression. One was
migration (...) (...) We are suggesting that, among other things,
migration was an escape from the hopelessness of poverty in which
the majority of people lived.
Migrants are always expected to "look back" to their social orimns by
extending their assistance to their less fortunate relatives at home.
In summarizing the history of the migrations in the Caribbean occupied
by the English, Dawn I. Marshall^^ distinguished four periods after the
general emancipation. The first is from 1835 to 1885 and is characterized
by the "flight to the hills" -which in certain territories meant a flight to other
islands-, and a more limited movement to the cities. In order to give an idea
of the volume of these internal migrations, the historian drew attention to
the fact that after emancipation, only 8 000 people out of a total population
of 22 359 were to be found living and working on the plantations of
Trinidad.
The role of poles of attraction played by the new territories acquired by
the English (Trinidad and Tobago and Guyana) is more marked after
emancipation. The planters tried to force the newly freed to sign annual
work contracts, but the seasonal character of these migrations was imposed
by the workers themselves, who were not averse to returning home for
Christmas and helping out with the harvesting.
Marshall correctly points out that even though a large number of
workers ended up establishing themselves in the host territories, migration
was perceived as something temporary. There is no need, of course to point
out that the objectives of the planters and those of the newly freed did not
coincide.
Between 1885 and 1920, movements were made in the direction of
Cuba and the Dominican Republic. One must add to the summary presented
by Marshall, who dealt only with the case of the former colonies of England,
the movement of the Haitian workers to these same countries. But it was
above all the construction of the Panama Canal which attracted the
populations of the Caribbean and threatened to depopulate the latter.
Between 1920 and 1940, the oil industry in Venezuela, and then that of
Curaqáao developed into the poles of attraction for the populations of the
88
centre and south of the region, while in the North, Haitians continued to
migrate to Cuba and the Dominican Republic, a movement accelerated by
the occupation of Haiti by the United States.
The last period identified by Marshall began in 1940 and continues to
the present. For the countries which she studies, the migratory movement
is toward the United States and in the early stages included Bahamians,
Jamaicans and later Barbadians. Subsequently, the Bahamas itself
developed into a pole of attraction to which Haitians and Jamaicans
migrated.
This period was marked above all by movements to the metropolises:
for the English-speaking Caribbean, the United States, England and Canada;
for Cubans, Dominicans, Haitians and Puerto Ricans, the United States;
Martiniquans, Guadeloupeans and French Guyanese migrated to France,
while Holland received emigrants from the Dutch Antilles and from
Suriname.
Two statistics from Marshall serve to illustrate these migratory trends.
Between 1961 and 1970, the level of immigration to the United States from
the so-called English-speaking Caribbean reached almost half a million,
while between 1960 and 1962 alone, England received 168 000 Caribbean
nationals.
Thus the collapse of the first plantation economies gradually created a
new sociological space, the Basin of the Caribbean Sea. This space was
characterized by a very special system of social relationships and family
loyalties. Intra-Caribbean migration helped to keep afloat the peasant and
pseudo-peasant economies or the craftsmen activities and small businesses
in the areas of origin, remedying through remittances the lack of income
caused by the collapse of the plantations.
This migration may be conceived of as an effort to obtain in a foreign
land the elements necessary to rescue village societies which stagnated
because of policies implemented by the administrative centres. The
internationalization of the market for food products rendered these
desperate efforts futile and led to an increase in both migratory movements
and remittances.
These phenomena illustrate the close relationship between the diaspora
and the native land. In order to understand the special characteristics of the
Caribbean migratory movements which define the region as an autonomous
structure distinct from the structure imposed by the major Powers, it is
necessary to refer once again to the theses advanced in the previous chapter.
The survival strategies of the newly freed developed outside of the
system of social relations responsible for the development of economic
89
resources in the colonized territories. In relation to the networks of political
decision-making, the newly freed w ^ marginalized. His contribution to the
determination of his future was, by the very nature of the plantation society,
markedly less than that of the workers in an industrial system. Incapable of
modifying his conditions of existence in his local society, he left for other
countries which offered him a slightly better standard of living without,
however, any change in his marginalized status with respect to the making
of decisions that affected him.
The improvement in the living standards of migrants was slowed by the
remittance of funds, which led to some degree of equalization of their living
conditions vis-a-vis their kin who remained behind in the country.
Moreover, these remittances widened even further the gap that separated
them from workers in their host countries.
Indeed, the income of the migrant worker is part of the income of the
family remaining behind in the country. Any study on income distribution
which does not take this situation into account, risks leading to erroneous
conclusions concerning the characteristics of the countries of origin and of
the host countries of the newly freed.
Thus this endogenous space created by the movements of the newly
freed, reproduces one of the basic characteristics of the local peasant
economies, namely, their resistance and powerlessness in the face of the
actions of the dominant systems. This is what is referred to as the replication
of the "bossalité' of the newly freed. This particular process must be viewed
as the reverse of the internationalization of the Caribbean's labour supply.
The obstacles to the integration or "creolization" of the newly freed lend a
specific character to the migratory movements of the region, which requires
further study.
The evolution of the national societies depends to a large extent on the
relationships of loyalty that bind the newly freed. Since such relationships
are in turn excluded from the vision of the political and spiritual authorities
of the countries of origin and of reception, they are not monitored, despite
the volume of foreign exchange that is remitted each year.
One finds then a repetition on a scale several times larger of the
cleavages that characterized plantation societies. The city and the dominant
categories of the Caribbean manage resources invested in systems of
relationships, which are different from those that enable the majority of the
population to subsist and reproduce.
As the mechanisms of exclusion of the dominant system affect larger
and larger segments of the population, groups of individuals belonging to
the dominant categories cannot help but adopt the survival strategies used
by grou{® lower down ia the social Merarcliy. The Caribbean diaspora
throws up on foreign shores "middle class secSois" who face the same
difficolties of integration into the hosi societies.
The iniernationalization of the labour force sometimes implies ara
improvement in living conditions which all too frequently accompaaies a
loss ira social status. The small peasant returns to being an agricultural
worker, the engineer is employed as a draughtsman, while the lawyer works
as a clerk, if not as an unskilled labourer. The extent to which this downward
the native country, remains a moot question.
In conclusion, it must be said that the political impasse of the States of
the region is more serious than has been pointed out. The interests and areas
of action of the electors do not coincide with those of their representatives.
A balkanized Caribbean, whose economic structures are becoming
increasingly fragile, is superimposed onto another Caribbean, this one
self-centred and developing rapidly.
No institution regulates the mutual relations of these two facets of the
same social reality. Their potential is not combined to achieve better control
over the national and international environment. The balkanized Caribbean
is in distress. The self-centred Caribbean is rudderless. The primary units
of the latter display a collective pattern of behaviour which seems to follow
principles still to be discovered by the social sciences.
Chapter 5
THE MAKING OF THE NATIONS
1. Introduction
When they settled in the Caribbean, the Europeans destroyed almost all
traces of human occupation prior to their arrival. They were and still are
powerful, and nothing can prevent them from developing the Caribbean
territories to suit their objectives and interests. Their sponsorship of the
societies they created is still operational and five centuries later, they still
face the same problems of blending with endogenous solutions.
Although they seized territories with specific aims in mind, the
Europeans could not occupy all the social space of the people they
colonized. The conflict between their aims and interests and those of the
inhabitants of the Caribbean was inherent to the process of colonization.
The areas that they deemed insignificant and of secondary importance or
which they were unable to control became the meeting places -however
limited- of the people they subjugated.
Among such areas removed from the immediate influence of the
Europeans, those created by the maroons should be mentioned. But these
so-called "deserters" or "fugitives" lived in "inaccessible" regions outside
the plantations societies. There also existed, within these societies, social
spaces which escaped colonialist control.
This chapter will endeavour to show how the establishment of the
plantation system gave birth to an alternative historical system that we have
referred to as the counter-plantation. The counter-plantation continued and
developed marronage to its ultimate limits, but it did not necessarily occupy
a physical space different from that of the plantation.
As the enslaved began to understand what was expected of them, they
were able to come to terms with torture, the most overt aspect of the slave
system. As indicated above, the only option open to the captives was to
become "creolized", i.e., to yield to the blind force of European colonialism.
93
In the opinion of the planters and colonial authorities, the Creole captives
were ideal slaves -they did not challenge the dominant system's method of
operation.
Following general emancipation, the newly-freed were obliged to fend
for themselves. They made demands regarding payment for their labour.
Having lost ownership of both labour and labourers, the planters took
measures to tighten their monopoly over farmland, settle the newly
freedmen near the plantations and curtail their bargaining power.
Thus piecework, a form of payment based on the amount of work done
regardless of the time taken to do it, became institutionalized. The
newly-freed negotiated their working hours in such a way that they could
devote part of their time to plantation work and the rest to growing farm
produce of their choice. The planters' reaction was to import indentured or
migrant workers, setting off migratory patterns that shaped the Caribbean
into an endogenous space of human geography.
The labourers' reaction to being overexploited amid efforts to settle
them on the most productive plantations resulted in the destruction of the
compartmentalization of colonial possessions. Imperceptibly, within the
colonial system itself, and irrespective of political and administrative
lines of demarcation, various versions of the counter-plantation
benefitted from cross-fertilization. Societies began to blend, as different
groups organized themselves and adjusted to the establishment of the
plantation system.
The theory of endogenous regional structures is based on an analysis of
some historical facts. The waves of migratory movements and intercourse
between the migrant populations and their native countries gave rise to a
single, articulated entity with characteristics that are different from those of
the subregions established by the colonizers.
Available data indicate flows of material and spiritual resources that
hardly correspond to the principles of colonial policy. To support this
theory, the features of such flows and an outline of Caribbean culture, or at
least of the nascent regional culture, would have to be proposed.
Two distinct approaches are currently used to characterize the main
aspects of Caribbean culture. Traditional studies sometimes describe
political and social doctrines, but usually they focus on the region's literary
production. A different angle of observation requires descriptions of the
Caribbean way of thinking on the basis of the rules and principles governing
social intercourse between the populations of the regional system and on
the basis of the outcome of such intercourse. The present chapter follows
this last approach.
The previous chapter discussed iffiira-Caribbeani migmiioras, msgraiJons
to the coasts of the Caribbean Sea Basin and migratory iows to the
metropolitan countries. We should find out why there are generations-old
links between nationals of Cbsta Rica or Curagao originally from Barbados
or Jamaica and their relatives in Jamaica, Barbados or she United States of
America.
What is the nature of such familial ties? Do they have any influence at
all on the personality of such individuals, who belong to different national
sub-groupings? Do such ties affect their relationships with other persons,
their voluntary associations, their decisions with irespsct to economic or
political issues, etc.? What principles govern the volume and frequency of
remittances among the various groupings?
It should also be possible to compare the behaviour of Barbadian farm
workers who live in Trinidad or Guyana, cocolosoithe Dominican Republic
or Jamaican emigrants in Cuba to the behaviour of their fellow countrymen
living in Central America or the United States of America. What are the
parameters of the differences and similarities observed in the process of
establishing an endogenous Caribbean?
Very little research has been done on how local cultures evolved. There
is no information on the principles and criteria that identify She different
constituent groups of the Caribbean as an endogenous region.®^
Two approaches will be used So try to understaHd the ¡naecüianisirs of
the formation of the different Caribbean nations, i.e. -the soc:a! couSracl
that identifies them-. First, the settlement of groups of people on a given
territory will be described. Since the patterns of seíílemeEt varied f r o a
island to island, a global picture cannot be proposed thai applies to She iregioa
uniformly. This discussion will focus om Dominica to deíemÍES how the
seeds of social inequality and stratification were sown amid i:sgot:at:offis
aimed at achieving a consensus.
We hope to show how two civilian societies emerged in all the comatries
of the region and to indicate where they interacted. The situation obviously
differed from country to country. We believe, however, that the centrifugal
and centripetal forces have the same origin and that the principle of their
coexistence is also the same.
The second part of the chapter will focus on the elements thai bimd Sike
social groups of the Caribbean together and try to show that sfficSi mEÍfyiag
elements were local creations. Common denominators will be socighJ, i.e.,
the criteria and institutions by which Caribbean natiosiais arc ídlCjni'iiiíiieíl.
Once again, it is assumed that the articulation of such elements into spsciSc
contexts produces either a Grenadian or a Martinican, but that the sainae
principles basically apply
Caribbean country.
to Martinique,
Grenada
or any other
2. Consensus and inequality
The history of Dominica during the eighteenth century provides an excellent
opportunity to observe the following:
a) How the major social components of Caribbean societies were
established;
b) How a consensus was gradually built around a specific system of
inequality;
c) How the imposition of colonial categories by the colonialists led to
the stratification of society;
d) The extent to which conflicts among imposed social categories
affected the daily activities of individuals and groups;
e) The context which gave rise to and sustained a bipolar social
structure.
It should be noted that it was only in 1763 that any European empire
consolidated its control over Dominica. Rivalries between the various
colonial States do not account for this. Such rivalries explain why Saint
Lucia changed hands about thirteen times;^^ Dominica changed
metropolises only thrice. The island was a Carib fortress that successfully
repelled foreign attacks for two hundred years.
However, this is not the appropriate moment to dwell on the history
of the Caribs. It is enough to say that the Caribs formed an organized
nation able to defend what it saw as its birthright and heritage. They
fought in battles that ranged from Puerto Rico to Saint Lucia and
attacked Spanish galleons even on the high seas. The chronicle of the
Caribs' heroic struggles shows that there was division of labour and
specialization of tasks in their society and that their military skills and
technology were sophisticated enough to guarantee a measure of
success for two centuries.
In 1700, the Caribs were still the masters of the island of Dominica.
According to a report by Joseph A. Boromé, their population was not so
small compared to the fact that in 1745 the total European and captive
population was just a little over 3 000 souls.^'*
Numbering some 5 000 in 1647, they had been reduced at the dawn
of the eighteenth century to about 2 000 because of wars and the
mass suicide by cassava that had filled a sizeable cave ("La Cáveme
des Indiens") with their bones. Illness and emigration to the
96
Orinoco area, where they had originated, brought them down by
1713 to some 500. And by 1730, they would be a mere 400,
compared with 1800 on St. Vincent.^^
In the early eighteenth century, three groups of people lived in
Dominica:
- the survivors of the Carib genocide;
- black settlers who had escaped from the neighbouring plantations to
seek refuge on Dominica;^
- a number of white and mulatto settlers of mainly, though not
exclusively, French descent ^^who had deserted the island plantations; they
were sometimes accompanied by captives who were usually Creoles.^®
The coexistence of Amerindians, Negroes and Europeans for at least
half a century was by no means peculiar to the history of Dominica. In the
countries where there were still Amerindian survivors, they undoubtedly
interacted with the petits blancs (pirates, buccaneers, pioneer planters and
indentured labourers) and the Negro settlers -called maroons in colonial
parlance. Saint Vincent was a patent example of this. The black Caribs or
Garifunas who inhabit the coasts of Central America originated from Saint
Vincent. Trinidad, the Guianas, Belize and Hispaniola had similar
experiences. Barbados, which the Europeans found uninhabited, was the
only exception to what appeared to be a norm streching from Bonaire
to Cuba.
Everything points to the fact that in Dominica, the Carib and black
communities were or tended to be racially homogeneous while the
Europeans were made up of several ethnic groups. We can assume that the
Caribs tried to preserve their life-styles. The black settlers established a new
society that was similar to the Carib model but different from the European
plantation model.
We do not know precisely what forms of inequality existed in Carib
and black villages; in all likelihood these villages did not have the
opportunity to develop. In any case, it was doubtful whether any system
of stratification derived from economic privileges. Moreover, such
privileges would not have affected in any way the characteristics of the
nascent island society.
The members of the multi-ethnic communities of the coast, constituted
the European sector of the emerging island society. Such communities were
subdivided into social classes. The owners of captives came from various
European countries -nation-states- and identified with their homelands.
The underlying structure of this sector provided for the exploitation of the
captives acquired under the regulations that defined its own social classes.
97
Since the dominant social class, the slave owners, could not rely on the
support of the administration of any metropolis or trading company, it was
unable to unilaterally impose its interests on the captives or to negotiate
these. Accounts concerning that period do not report that significant
numbers of captives fled to Q r i b or black villages. A description of the
largest plantation of the period which was owned by the Jesuit order notes
that there were even family units among the captives.^
The island's population seemed to be compartmentalized along tribal
lines and the basic concept for understanding and describing the nascent
society remains that of colonists -in the original meaning of the word- or,
in the parlance of the region, settlers or "habitants" in French. These three
groups of settlers were not yet a single social entity and no unifying structure
appeared to emerge from their contacts with each other.
The island was therefore home to three distinct societies. Whatever
shape eventual imposition and inequality took in each of these three major
components of the island, they were apparently not substantial enough to
affect the relations between these different societies. The type of activity
and the different options for managing the products of such activities varied
according to the group of settlers involved.
The Caribs, the independent Negroes and the European settlers were
equally autonomous or at least self-sufficient. It was perhaps not an idyllic
situation: some of these pioneers were scoundrels of the worst kind.
Achieving peaceful relations in such a constricted world was no mean feat.
J. Boromé talks about a "somewhat Hobbesian atmosphere of bellum
omnium contra omnes"}^
However, the process of unification gradually contunued and the
common principles of a relatively unified social system were perceptible
from the outset. The adoption of a common language and the development
of versatile agricultural holdings run by their owners still bear testimony
today to those initial developments. This subject will be dealt with in the
second part of the chapter.
The analysis of these three groups of settlers necessarily leads to the
notion of extra-territorial relations. Each group was linked to a broader
social unit which gave it identity within the framework of basic social
categories on which the emerging regional order and balance were based.
One of the main aspects of the Dominican settlers' common view was
how they perceived local relations in the context of a region marked by
different social classes. The daily activities of the early settlers and the
decisions they took were informed and guided by their knowledge of
regional structure and the changes that occurred therein.
98
The possibility of Dominica becoming absorbed into the British or
French colonial empire during the Seven Years' War (1756-1763) meant
that the settlers who, despite their relatively peaceful relations with each
other, become parties to the conflict and had to adjust their daily
activities.
As long as international rivalries remained unresolved, the Caribs and
the blacks had little to worry about. Depending on the warring kingdom
favoured by formne, settlers of French or English nationality had to consider
seeking refuge in the hills controlled by the Negroes and Indians or fleeing
to more peaceful climes. The supremacy of one group of European nationals
over the other depended on the outcome of the war and foormed the
prerequisite for the system of social inequalities peculiar to the territories
of the region.
Thus the three groups of settlers used the conflicts between the
European nation-states as a yardstick for determining the range of choices
open to them. Endogenous development and social differences based on
individual performance depended upon an aggravation of the conflict.
However, the war had to end before a system of inequalities could develop
whereby parties to the conflict acquired some status and which was at
variance with a locally devised equitable system.
In other words, the main social groups were defined as communities of
settlers established along tribal or national lines in so far as life on the island
was evolving in a situation of relative neutrality. The initial level of social
structures can be defined within this social space. The social relations that
occurred therein were unlike those which characterized plantation societies.
They were based on equality and evolved into a system where individual
merit created differences in social status.
Democracy did not come to the region from Europe; on the contrary,
Europe tried to stifle its development. Relatively self-sufficient free villages
were established by individuals on the basis of independent life-styles; they
maintained relations which should be seen as forms of social negotiations
aimed at ensuring that each community as a whole was able to reproduce
itself and maintain its specific character. In order to allow such negotiations
between settlers, some common standards and principles of interaction
gradually began to emerge.
The nascent island society in Dominica before 1763 alludes to the
notion of this emerging consensus. This consensus also contained the seeds
of a nation organized by an incipient democratic state. The homeland of the
three groups of merging settlers -their future national territory- was
occupied or "invaded" by a colonial state in 1763.
99
The fact that such events were not spread out over time makes it more
difficult to understand what actually happened. One did not see the
burgeoning of a nation-state followed by its occupation by a colonial
empire. The settlers were inserted within a broader context governed by
standards and principles that clashed with endogenous developments of
their groupings. The information we have on their behaviour shows that
they were aware of that fact. This explains why even before colonialism
there were traces of social friction as a result of discrimination in the
awarding of rank and prestige.
Thus, in addition to the first level of social structures, a second one
emerged at a similar embryonic level stemming from the broader
framework which was reflected in Dominica by constant infringements of
the treaty of neutrality by both the European states and the white settlers.
The prospects of one of the major powers experiencing a change of
fortune was the primary reason for the truce between the three groups of
settlers and between Europeans of different nationalities. However, the
economic plans of each of these groups had to make provision for viable
options after the truce ended. But such options were also incompatible, and
that was why the presence of European states undermined social harmony
and the building of new nations from the very beginning.
Some individuals were tempted by the prospects of adventure in
America into escaping from their desperate plight in Europe. Realizing that
opportunities awaiting them in the plantation societies were not much
brighter, they chose to undertake independent and autonomous economic
activities in Dominica outside the framework of the plantation societies.
Life in the coastal villages was similar to that of plantation societies.
Despite the fratricidal wars between their respective countries and the few
resources they possessed, the new settlers adapted to life on Dominica. They
operated within a framework that evolved toward egalitarian social
life-styles while hoping that a political order would be established enabling
them to launch family enterprises.
The cases of the two other ethnic groups were different. With the end
of the war, the Negro and Carib settlers had no other choice but to prepare
to withdraw inland and to isolate themselves. Given the size of the island,
physical isolation was relative but isolation from the island's institutions
following the end of military and political conflicts had considerable impact.
The regional environment also threatened the economic prospects of
the island's Carib and Negro segments. For example, qualitative differences
existed between how a European lumberman and a Negro lumberman
disposed of their product. For the same activity organized along a similar
100
management pattern (family production), the two lumbermen would never
obtain the same results. Although the European's isolation might have been
real, it was not necessary. No matter how poor his community was, the
European could always hope to develop more productive forms of economic
organization. He could, and in fact did, exchange or barter his products with
other Caribbean islands.
The Negro settlers of the Dominican hinterland had also to maintain
ties with the outside world. At the very least, they had to acquire arms and
stock their community's arsenal. The European settlers tended to act as
middlemen in such relations since the Negroes were considered "fugitives"
by the plantation societies. The isolation of Negro settler villages was
necessary even if it was not real.
The economic activity of Negroes and Caribs was considerably
affected by political restrictions imposed by contemporary regional legal
and ideological definitions. Such restrictions also applied to a large extent
to mulattoes; they had to prove that they were freedmen whenever they
moved from one administrative system to another.
The main categories of the dominant economic system then, began to
develop in Dominica at the outset of the European interventions. However,
the social organizations related to these categories, i.e., the plantations, were
unable to take root in the country. Regional categories predominated in the
political and ideological spheres only. In this environment, which was, in a
way, beyond its control, the population went about its business in
accordance with the first level of structural relations identified above.
Economic inequalities were created by politics and not by differences
in individual performance. Assessment of any behaviour depended on
whether it occurs within a local context or within the context defined
by Europe.
Two cultural trends developed out of these dynamics. However, all the
territory's individuals and groups experienced these two divergent
conceptions of the world and were able to deal with them simultaneously.
The duality that emerged was peculiar to Dominica and by extension to the
Caribbean as a whole.
A second element on which the island's entire population shared a
common view, was its awareness of the crucial importance of political
relations to the establishment of society. The population also agreed that
social inequalities were engendered by externally imposed relations that had
nothing to do with local problems.
The fact that the European settlers, especially potential planters, had
access to plantation economies organized by their respective mother
101
countries enabled them to negotiate a trusteeship status that was kept secret
at first, but which they hoped would come out into the open later. This
encouraged them to lay claims to both superiority and social domination.
As a result of repeated failures of such negotiations, they were obliged, their
beliefs or prejudices notwithstanding, to abide by the rules of the first level
of structures which rewarded individual performance.
Similarly, the Caribs and Negroes felt more at ease in the sector of
society where individual achievements earned respect. However, whether
they liked it or not, they had to accept being assigned to certain social
categories and the concomitant consequences in terms of daily life in
Dominica.
A study of Dominica's history suggests that in order to understand
the principles of social intercourse during the formative period of
Caribbean societies, the special connotations of certain concepts
commonly used to describe contemporary events should be noted. The
environment in which the early Dominicans lived had nothing in
common with the view of a national or domestic environment as
opposed to an international one. At that time, it was impossible to
compare foreign or external affairs with "national" or domestic affairs.
Domestic or national affairs assumed participation in a unified political
system, i.e., a state.
The French and English settlers were still the subjects of their respective
kings even if the territory did not belong to the king. This fact underscores
the need to distinguish between nation and state. The notion of international
relations refers to what goes on outside a national area of interaction and
which may or may not affect such area. Dominica was not the "national"
territory of any specific group, except, nominally, the Caribs. It did not
belong to any State.
During that period, a distinction could be made between endogenous
and independent ventures and dependent or externally-influenced ventures.
The aim of the conflicto between France and Great Britain was to establish
social systems controlled by Europe. That eventuality was used as the frame
of reference for all autonomous or dependent ventures and the confrontation
between France.and Great Britain permeated the social fabric of the whole
island. In other words, although the groups of settlers on Dominica belonged
to a system of nations, they did not occupy the space of a nation-state distinct
from international or external space.
Moreover, there were discontinuities between local activities and those
activities carried out by nation-states within Dominica. The activities of the
settlers, whose aim was to satisfy their own needs, were affected by the mere
102
prospect of colonial domination. On the other hand, such activities could
neither prevent nor encourage the advance or retreat of nation-states.
Great Britain and France were not particularly interested in Dominica's
agricultural potential. Their economic influence was insignificant, but they
were interested in the territory's strategic position. As a result of their
rivalry, as well as their trusteeship, strong administrative and military
organizations were established which were capable of controlling the island
in times of war, but they were uninterested in providing the colony with the
services and infrastructure needed to systematically tap its economic
potential in times of peace.
As a result of the European powers' unwillingness or inability to create
conditions conducive to colonial economic development, the island's
European settlers were unable to establish a dominant position over the
other segments of the population. Their predominance, as an extension of
that of the mother country, was restricted solely to politics. Their marginal
economic situation forced them to respect the principles of internal
consensus geared to satisfying the community's needs.
The big powers' lack of interest in economic matters promoted an
egalitarian society in Dominica and this dynamic was duplicated in all the
Caribbean territories from the abolition of the slave trade until today. This
point will be taken up again later since it holds the key to understanding the
relationship between culture and power in the region.
Thus, the relationships of dependence that developed after 1763 when
England officially occupied the island neither destroyed nor eliminated
activities aimed at using the island's resources to satisfy local needs. Such
activities were simply relegated to the background. Since they were crucial
to the survival of all the island's inhabitants, one may well wonder why they
were not encouraged by the metropolises.
Throughout the colonial period, Dominica remained "an economically
neutral island". None of its export products were of any importance to the
colonial powers, the neighbouring islands, their plantocracies or their
merchants.
In contrast to dominant agricultural export activities, local trade did not
lead to capital accumulation. During the period under consideration, wealth
and capital were obtained and multiplied more by brute force than through
purely economic performance.
The endogenous and least visible of Dominica's two parallel structural
arrangements never developed its inherent political potential. At the same
time, the externally-oriented approach upon which official historians
constantly focused their attention was never able to transform the society's
103
economic fabric. However, the self-reliant social processes did not prevent
the metropolises from developing the island, but the imposition of external
policies on the island thwarted moves by the State to institutionalize a social
contract.
Dominica was one of the few cases in the Caribbean where the elite
never became wealthy. It is perhaps risky to generalize on the basis of
Dominica's history. Nevertheless, from the nineteenth century until today,
other planters of the region have experienced more periods of crisis than of
opulence. On the basis of the foregoing analyses the following outline of
the basic sociological features of Caribbean societies are proposed:
a) In the daily routine of colonial Caribbean, groups of individuals
organized themselves to rely on their own resources to solve the problems
that arose. The networks thus established created a civilian society which
adapted to an environment different from those of the metropolitan
countries and other types of colonies.
b) The weakening of Europe's economic stranglehold over the region
created a propitious climate for devising an endogenous social contract
which allowed the self-reliant development of the territory.
c) The social negotiations that led to alliances concerning the
utilization of local resources to satisfy the population's needs were restricted
to certain areas of public and community life, i.e., social areas where
conflicts between similar autonomous units displaying very few differences
in the internal division of labour had been resolved. Consequently, the cores
of settlements and groups of inhabitants were relatively isolated from each
other. The original groups of settlers -in Dominica's case the Caribs,
Negroes and mulattoes- could still be distinguished.
d) A distinct urban civilian society was established outside the
colonial administration's sphere of influence; it was composed mainly of
groups of individuals belonging to the dominant social categories who
interacted with individuals of the subordinate categories employed in
economic and administrative support services.
e) The difference between how the two civilian societies operated was
that one could rely on the resources and indulgence of the metropolis to
solve its daily problems.
f) Social inequalities were fostered by a colonial power opposed to
private initiative and consequently preferred granting social status over
rewarding individual performance.
g) The differences in life-styles went hand in hand with the exercise
of functions that defined the dominant categories. Such differences were a
direct consequence of the support of the metropolitan powers.
104
h) Self-reliant activities which cemented the society and supported
the nation-building process, provided a range of economic options and equal
opportunities for all motivated individuals.
i) Institutionalized social inequalities and their justification were
not part of the system of relations which forged national unity and
differences in opinion within that system did not result in the
stratification of society.
j) The differences in life-styles of the social groups were of secondary
importance to the way such societies functioned. The economic factors
behind the defence of life-styles depended on the preservation or res^nse
of primary political relations.
k) The bipolarity of the logical postulates of social behaviour was the
result of coexistence of two levels of social structures. This bipolarity was
experienced by all the inhabitants of a particular territory. The evolution of
Caribbean societies and the fact that they have not yet fully developed as
nation-states is attributable to the incompatibility of these postulates.
3. Apré Bondié, c'est la té
A description of the links between plantations and counter plantations
should help in defining a number of categories in Caribbean societies.
The first category is made up of the group of territories where the
counter-plantation prevailed over the plantation for some time, either
because of neglect by the colonial economies during the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries (in the islands occupied by Spain or in Dominica, for
example) or because of revolutionary activity as was the case in Haiti from
1804 to 1915.
The next category is constituted by the group of territories where the
momentum of the counter-plantation was broken by the importation of
indentured or immigrant farm labourers. This happened in Trinidad,
Guyana, Suriname and, to a lesser extent, Jamaica.
Finally, the evolution of Martinique and Barbados, where merchants
joined forces with planters to overcome the crises of the nineteenth century,
places these islands in a separate category.
No matter how accurate and elaborate such descriptions are, they would
not solve the problem that sociological studies have to explain, which is
why after centuries of European "colonialism" and "influence" these small
island societies and economies have attained such a degree of social
heterogeneity leaving them unable to bridge the social gaps that separate
groups of a few thousand people.
105
It was noted in chapter 3 that the plantation systems with their
institutions and development strategies, did not envision the reproduction
of the labour force. The labour force multiplied under social systems
invented and managed by itself. We know the plantation society, its
institutions and strategies. We also know the peasant economy or
counter-plantation, although it was rarely conceived of as a social system
distinct from the dominant system. The basic institutions of the
counter-plantation should be identified and its survival strategies described.
No inventory can be made of a social system's cultural products. They
consist of logical arrangements that can multiply forever.
Several excellent studies have been made on the religion, language,
economy, music, painting, sculpture, leisure activities and many other
customs of the region's inhabitants. Such studies reflect the "influence" of
all the peoples who have crossed the Caribbean Sea. They rarely reflect
what the Caribbean contributed to its own culture.
Studies on Caribbean culture should show how and why cultural traits
blend into more or less harmonious systems. Since the societies under study
were created out of nothing, there is no need to look for a miscellany of
external ingredients in their make-up. What scientific observation has
overlooked and what needs to be identified are the terms of the social
contract that define such societies as special entities.
At some point in the nineteenth century, the region's inhabitants
identified with and were identified according to the different European
empires to which they belonged. The history of the groups of networks of
relations that they established to run their daily activities differed from that
of other exploitation colonies.
On the Latin American and African continents the populations had
established self-sustaining groups well before they were colonized by
Europeans. Social sciences, particularly anthropology and archaeology,
have worked to reconstruct these social systems that were partially
destroyed by the Western conquests. They could easily identify gaps in time
and even sometimes in the space of the indigenous societal forms and the
changes they suffered through after coming into contact with the colonizers.
The relations peculiar to the modern Caribbean were non-existent
before the arrival of the Europeans. Moreover, these relations were never
controlled by authorities which conveyed and arbitrated the various interests
that regulated their continuous reproduction. It is therefore more difficult
to perceive them let alone analyze them.
For reasons that we will try to uncover in the last chapter, the region's
intellectual elite as a whole have not yet embarked on an attempt to identify
106
the specific criteria used by the peoples of the Caribbean as benchmarks in
their daily activities and relations. We will demonstrate why such criteria
are unique by determining the functional requirements of daily life.
If we analyze how orderly social life developed, we can discover how
a mix of factors combined in a special way to produce Caribbean nations.
We shall not attempt to define the cultural principles of these nations nor
shall we describe Caribbean culture. We shall, rather, analyze how such
principles must have broken down.
L o g i c a l l y , t h e first achievement of the Caribbean peoples was to
create a means of communication -their own language- that enabled them
to form social groups, prepare and implement collective survival strategies
and accumulate and pass on local experiences and traditions.
Research on the history and sociology of the Caribbean languages is
still in an early phase. Eventually, these disciplines will have to explain
why bilingualism or the invention of indigenous languages occurred only
where colonization was based on ownership of the colonized people by
Europeans.
The only monolingual territories of the Caribbean are those where slave
plantations were incorporated into peasant or pseudo-peasant societies that
already existed, as in the cases of Cuba, Puerto Rico and the Dominican
Republic. This situation highlights the settlers' role as socializers of
immigrant labourers and the role of counter-plantations in the reproduction
of the labour force.
However, the linguist Mervyn C. Alleyne has put forward a major
objection to the foregoing explanation for bilingualism and monolingualism
in the region. He likens the linguistic situation in Barbados to that of the
Spanish-speaking countries. He argues that Barbados, like Cuba and the
Dominican Republic, "experienced the unbroken and relatively intense
presence of only one European nationality throughout its colonial
history".^®'»
Alleyne's argument rejects theories on the structural dualism of the
region and agrees with the theories of creolization. According to him,
Barbados is the most Creole of all the island-plantations. It seems to us,
however, that Martinique's case is not much different from that of Barbados
and the Spanish-speaking islands. If Alleyne's argument holds, the Creole
of Martinique is doomed to disappear soon. This seems quite unlikely.
There are obvious similarities between the Creole languages of the
Caribbean and European languages as far as vocabulary was concerned.
The differences stem from their grammatical and phonological structures
and several sementical aspects. Creole languages and the European
107
languages from which they borrowed vocabulary are not mutually
intelligible, nor do they have similar relationships that exist among dialects
of the same language.
The vernacular languages were the vehicles through which the
population expressed its thoughts. The indigenous population decided on
the correctness of grammar or speech.
The vernacular and European languages as they were spoken in the region
did not convey all the ideas expressed by the population. The inhabitants were
not really bilingual. They did not speak a vernacular or the official language
indifferently, because each one was used within strictly defined contexts.
Verbal communication reflected the peculiar relationships between the
colonized people and the colonizers. Creole languages were used in social
intercourse outside colonial circles, particularly in private life. Other social
activities were conducted in the master's tongue. Public activities were
conducted solely in the official language regardless of how well-versed the
population was in such language.
The process by which the European powers took control of the Creole
languages and depicted them as debasements of their own languages and a
source of backwardness was typical of the fate suffered by the most
important creations of the Caribbean. Creole languages were perceived as
a source of backwardness; the "masters" assumed that the only way of
developing was through integration into the Western world.
French-based Creole was created out of the need for communication
between the early masters, petite blancs and their indentured labourers and
captives. This language was used to establish the plantation system.
Everybody spoke it, and it was usually the only language spoken.
As French became the language of the court and therefore of public
administration in the metropolis, a group of settlers followed the lead of the
civil servants and soldiers, breaking away from the local population and
adopting French as their language.
French-based Creole then became the
property of the "natives".
The substitution of French for Creole was dictated by political, social
and economic interests and did not occur overnight. And yet, metropolitan
social and political sciences began talking about the islands occupied by the
French as French-speaking islands. Centuries later, it is still mistakenly
believed that France's Caribbean colonies are French-speaking, and that the
descendants of African captives speak a debased version of this language.
Misinformed people believe that, chronologically, Creole was second
to French in the Caribbean. Discriminatory measures built on this
misconception were put into practice by institutions and agencies of the
108
colonial metropolis, eg. schools, courts of law, churches and the mass
media, with an avowed aim of preventing the development of the local
language.
A similar situation prevailed in the process of imposing English in
Trinidad.107 In a seminal article, D. WinfordlOS shows how
French-based Creole was the language most used on the island at the
beginning of the British occupation. He quotes a nineteenth-century
writer who established that Creole was the most commonly used
language despite widespread knowledge of English, and affirms that it
was the medium of thought. Fresh arrivals on the island first learned
French-based Creole and then English.
Winford describes the transition from "French" to English. English
imposed as the official language, was disseminated with some difficulty
among the elite through classroom instruction. No formal system of mass
education existed prior to 1900, yet by then English-based Creole had put
down solid roots in the country. The masses of Trinidad did not learn
English from a local elite that spoke it only reluctantly to satisfy specific
requirements of community living. English-based Creole was learned
through contacts with immigrants from other islands such as Saint Vincent
and Barbados.
To sum up, Creole languages sprang up during the establishment of
groups and networks of individuals among the indentured European
labourers, the captives and, later, the freedmen and indentured labourers of
the nineteenth century. Creole was used before French, English or any other
official language in the formation of the peoples of the region into
harmonious social units and in the seasoning of individuals.
The second achievement of the inhabitants of the Caribbean was to set
up groups of individuals, the most important of these being the family.
Contrary to the logical processes of establishing societies, the societies we
are interested in are not the product of a combination of individual families.
The Caribbean colonial society pre-dated the formation of individual
indigenous families like a mold trying to shape an unexpected existence.
Regardless of whether they were pirates, buccaneers or prisoners, the
petitsblancs werefirstand foremost societies of men. After they had settled
in the colony, they took delivery of shiploads of women, usually prostitutes,
for whom they paid cash and with whom they set up family units.
The Negroes could not live as families. Sometimes they were forced to
mate and entire islands were set aside for breeding them. It will be reminded
that fathers, mothers and children were separate commodities that were
legally bought or sold on the market.
109
Under such circumstances, one of the most outstanding social
achievements of the people of the Caribbean was to establish stable units
of procreation and a form of continuity from generation to generation. In
this respect, the indentured labourers from India were in a very different
situation, even though they had problems in having the legitimacy of their
marriages recognized. This no doubt constituted a determining element of
the social psychology of the Caribbean's Indian population.
No provision was made under the plantation system for the natural
reproduction of the labour force. The system operated using immigrants. At
best, the labour force was given access to only marginal resources. Simply
put, the plantation society denied its workers the most basic needs. Duly
established families among the working classes were basically contrary to
its principles and values.
Measures were also taken to strip families of workers of any rights. The
standard type of family that actually emerged from this context suffered the
same fate of the Creole languages considered non-languages.
Even well-meaning people vilified the Caribbean family, and powerful
institutions set about trying to destroy it. All sorts of legal codes and
regulations based on various versions of the Judeo-Christian religions tried
to reform the Caribbean family and in so doing to justify the fact that such
workers were not allowed the material resources needed to sustain families
built on the official organizational model.
The litde that indigenous families managed to save was not easy to
preserve. Under the letter of the law, that unit of procreation could not be
considered as a family, and the ofñcial regulations on legitimacy and
inheritance did not apply to the blood relationships that actually existed.
This unit of procreation was called plaqage, shack-up or free union to
distinguish it from the mores of people of sound moral values.
The progeny of such sinful unions were barred from prestigious
and well-paid jobs. In fact, the entire Caribbean population had to
overcome fantastic obstacles before securing such humble
middle-class jobs as primary school teaching because of the nature of
its family relationships.
Nowadays, many an institution still imbued with the colonial ideology
still condemns the irresponsibility of its family heads, especially the male
heads of family. This attitude enables these institutions to shift the blame
that should fall on the State, its official institutions and development policies
onto the victims of the plantation society. In recompense for such devotion,
the dominant system confers life-long prestige and remuneration on these
latter-day missionaries.
110
The model of the Caribbean family flourished in the nineteenth century
in areas where it managed to procure a bit of land and some security enabling
it to project its potential beyond just one generation. Comparative studies
of the family structure of the Bush Negroes of Suriname and of the free
villages of Jamaica and Haiti in particular would yield significantly more
information on the region's social and cultural characteristics.
Such studies would provide information on the basic model of the
Caribbean family and thus make it possible to later classify the changes
families underwent in other rural areas. The way in which it functions
in urban areas where the relationship between man and the land is
secondary could also be evaluated. Moreover, such studies would help
to explain the changes in the institutions that go hand-in-hand with the
establishment of family networks that are duplicated even in the
diaspora.
The family's relationship with the land was the third social innovation
of the peoples of the region. The history of the region's peoples is reflected
by its agriculture. The people thus established peasant agriculture and the
counter-plantation. The key to Caribbean culture should be the institution
that regulates relationships between the social groups -first and foremost,
the family- and the land.
It hardly needs to be recalled that, given the terms of access to
agricultural resources, the region could not have been expected to develop
in a spectacular way its own system of land tenure. A weak institution
evolved which reflected the main characteristics of the counter-plantation
and its specificity with respect to the plantation society.
European land-distribution policy was used to place people in the
various social categories required to pursue colonial objectives. Such a
policy was consistent with Western social philosophy and its definitions of
what was non-European.
At the same time, in their efforts to break free of their chains, the peoples
of the Caribbean invented and institutionalized their own system of land
tenure. Obviously, that system was diametrically opposed to the objectives
of Europeans and could survive only on the fringes of the latter's
jurisdiction.
From the apogee of peasant agriculture in the nineteenth century until
its interminable demise in the contemporary period, the endogenous
development of the Caribbean has been clinging to a value that is aptly
expressed by the motto of Dominica:" Apré Bondié, c'est la té". A typically
Caribbean institution of land tenure and the crucible of the region's social
philosophy is joint collective ownership.
Ill
Joint collective ownership ensured that any inherited land was the
common prerogative of an entire family. It encompassed all generations
descended from the original owner or occupant of the land. Therightto use
the plot of land secured in this manner -commonly called té éritié or family
land- and to enjoy its produce, was shared by the entire family.
Decisions regarding the transfer of landed property were not made by
individuals but by the community as a whole. The heirs of family lands were
not allowed to sell or dispose of them as they please unless the whole family
agreed. The marginal plots over which the peasants managed to gain control,
after countless efforts, were free from any interference by colonial
institutions.
However, joint collective ownership turned out to be xiseless insurance.
In practice, the eventuality of the State and State-sponsored groups taking
over the land again could not be effected through the play of market forces
alone.
The purchase and sale of landed property outside the social divisions
established by the metropolitan countries could not have affected many
properties. In fact, it was not clear whether farm land was regarded as
merchandise in the Caribbean. At the very least, formidable practical and
institutional barriers had to be overcome before land could be transferred
from one owner to another.
Since the plots were widely dispersed, those that eventually came on
the market for sale interested only the small-scale farmers. However, capital
formation in such circles was not enough to give sales of such plots any
particular importance.
Big landlords were seldom able to consolidate and expand their
property by acquiring land adjacent to theirs. In any case, most of the
property owned by the freedmen was of poor quality. Once again, the
expansion of large estates would not be significant enough to alter the
balance between the plantation and the counter-plantation.
Finally, it was difficult to conceive of the fomentation and sale of
large estates to a host of impoverished peasants.^
It should therefore be concluded that the omnipresence of collectively
owned property in the formation of social groups of the Caribbean expressed
something more than the mere protection of collective wealth. It appears to
have defined the community itself, its characteristics, standards of unity and
mechanisms for transmitting such unity.
One often reads that joint collective ownership was the main obstacle
to economic development and to the development of peasant
/
112
agriculture.^^® It was assumed to hamrer individual initiative and prevent
peasants from using credit facilities."^
Only one economic study has been found that conceives of the problem
of agricultural development in terms of the inability of credit institutions to
devise satisfactory linkage mechanisms for agriculture.^^^ This problem
underscores the dilemma posed by the region's structural dualism, namely,
whether it is possible to devise a system of checks and balances for the
dominant system.
Careful reading of Caribbean history shows that joint collective
ownership helped to avoid the colonial land tenure system and its
harmful consequences with regard to the establishment of families and
networks of autonomous social groups. Far from being an obstacle to
development, it became the source of all initiatives taken by the
freedmen.
In 1966, a unique and pioneering survey of small-scale Dominican
farmers conducted by J.B. Yankey shed some light on the quantitative
importance of land under the joint collective ownership system. Yankey
showed that 73% of the small-scale farmers interviewed were landowners
and that the remaining 27% were renters. Of the owners, 33% worked
wholly or partially on family lands.
As to the land area under one form or other of tenure, a minority of
small-scale farmers (17%) worked exclusively on family lands.
Nevertheless, most of the land worked by small-scale agriculture before
1948 (58%) was family land. After the first land distribution scheme in the
country's history was undertaken in the early 1950s, a significant proportion
of the land (42%) still remained in family hands.
These data are very significant. In so far as they can be generalized and
to the degree that empirical studies show the situation in other Caribbean
islands to be the same, there is no need to find additional proof of the
importance of collectively owned property in the region's social
organization.
The fact that the dominant economy was organized differently and that
it continued plantations of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries in no way
diminishes the role of the survival strategies that ensured that the population
was able to reproduce itself. Indeed, the population did not live off the
profits of the dominant economy, nor had it ever done so.
Curiously several reports asserted that collectively owned property was
a relic of the Napoleonic Code. One account states that Saint Lucia had:
"an old system of land tenure which is a legacy of the former French
occupation. Saint Lucia's Civil Code, based on the Napoleonic
113
Code, includes sections which deal with Laws of Succession of
ascendants and descendants as well as collateral relations."^^'^
According to N.J.O. Liverpool, during most of the nineteenth century
the laws of Saint Lucia continued deliberately to be those of the French
colonial empire prior to 1789.^^^ Even if at that time there was no written
legislation in the country and that mere planters acted in several instances
as judges, it would be very difficult indeed to link these planters to the
ideological developments that led to the reforms of Napoleon Bonaparte.
In any case, assuming that joint collective property had any connection
with the Napoleonic Code, it should have been as common in France as in
Saint Lucia. However, it just so happened that in Saint Lucia the plantations,
the properties of white Creoles were not inherited under the system of joint
collective property. Why then would the black population have been more
respectful of Napoleon's Code than the French or the white Creoles were?
Saint Lucia's black population would have adopted laws of succession
based on the Napoleonic Code only if there had been models of Napoleonic
families on the island. However, it was impossible for captives and
freedmen to have ever been in a position to imitate such a model of family
organization.
The specific arrangements provided under the system ofjoint collective
ownership was what prevailed in most territories of the Caribbean. In
Jamaica, this form of tenure could definitely not have derived from an "old"
French custom. Even in Haiti, it is difficult to believe that such a system
could have been of French origin and let alone from the Napoleonic era. We
have merely to think about the relations between the two countries during
Napoleon's reign and of the fate of the French after the Revolution. Studies
of both societies offer more detailed information and a description of those
systems as they operated in those circles.^^^
Edith Qarke suggests that in Jamaica, collectively owned property
reflected West African principles of land tenure. It was linked to the
reproduction of family ties. The concept of family land derived from
principles of inheritance and the utilization, not by individual members, but
by a group under a specific lineage.
Under traditional beliefs and practices, family lands were bequeathed
to "the entire family", or to "all the children", and were also available to
groups of related persons who jointly paid the taxes on the land. Qarke notes
that in practice "all the children" included those of the same parents and
their collaterals.^^^
It is generally believed that the system was established during the period
that immediately followed emancipation. Grants of land to former
114
plantation labourers were interpreted by the beneficiaries as belonging to
the family forever.
Joint collective property offered a solution to the problem of high costs
and arcane English civil laws and procedures. Since most of the plots were
very small, when the combined costs of registering titles including
surveying and lawyers' fees were compared to the commercial value of the
land, any attempts to legally divide that land were senseless.
The concept of family lands was used to evade the regulations of
English civil codes on inheritance. Such laws contradicted the traditions and
customs sanctioned by the community. They did not recognize
"illegitimate" children among the heirs. When no "legitimate" heir claimed
the land it was confiscated by the Crown.
The concept of legitimate children assumed the existence of nuclear
families; but the marginal land was insufficient for maintaining a nuclear
family. Jamaican peasants therefore devised joint collective ownership of
property or at least re-established an African tradition which had its own
concepts of family and inheritance.^^®
Haitian principles of land tenure were quite similar to those of Jamaica.
Serge Larose highlights their relationships with religion and the
composition of the family group. He submits that there is a large variety of
forms and cycles of development linked to collective ownership.
He distinguishes between self-sustaining units that use only family
labour and residential or lakou units comprising consanguineous families
and tenants; he stresses that the lakou is a group of nuclear families, each
of which occupies a separate housing unit and shares a common yard.^^^
It is remarkable that French or English-based Creole languages use the
same word cour or yard to express a concept which neither in France nor
in Great Britain would be a Caribbean "yard". This is a clear example of
the semantic similarities of Caribbean languages and their differences with
the European languages from which they borrow vocabulary.
Moreover, this example illustrates the difficulty of differentiating
between the Caribbean culture and the dominant cultures. European labels
are used in the region to indicate institutions and things which have nothing
in common with the Western environment.
In Haiti, anyone could begin a lakou if he owned land. Larose stresses,
however, that the first lakou apparently date from the beginning of the
nineteenth century. They were established on properties distributed to the
soldiers who had fought in the wars of independence.
Religion was of capital importance to the family group of a lakou. The
lakou can be described as "a model of social organization developed under
115
an elaborate religious system containing the main elements of continuity
with the past".
It might also be defined as a unit of worship organized
around a church.
Larose, like Clarke, makes the same distinction between inherited land
(té éritié) and acquired land (té achté). The resemblance between Haiti and
Jamaica is even more striking when one looks at the rights of members of
the lakou to use their land.
Larose states that all those who did not have the means to live otherwise
were entitled to residence in a lakou. TTie lakou provided them with a kind
of security in terms of both religion and family ties.
The reason why the system ofjoint collective ownership existed in most
of the Caribbean islands and not in Europe is simple. The specific trait of
the system of family property was not a basic participation in a common
inheritance. Although this principle no doubt contradicted the right of
primogeniture which characterized the principles of inheritance in feudal
Europe, the mere fact of subdividing inheritance among all the descendants
of the owner did not in itself, produce a system of collective ownership.
In addition to the distribution of the inheritance among all those entitled
to it, none of the heirs could transfer suchrights;after a few generations, all
persons of the same descent became co-owners. In this case, the community
or a reconstituted clan became the custodian of the property rights.
Joint collective property was defined by the inalienability of the right
to inheritance. From this point of view, it seemed clear that any line of
reasoning even slightly related to the liberalism of nineteenth-century
Europe would not countenance such an institution. What was denied in joint
collective property was the jus uti et abuti, therightto use and misuse one's
property recognized by all Europeans regardless of whether the right of
primogeniture was applicable or not.
The problem posed by joint collective property was all the more
interesting in that there did not appear to be a similar prohibition in the
inheritance of any other property apart from land. That is why Dominica's
motto seems to be particularly suited to the Caribbean mentality. Aprés
Dieu, la terre.
Land by its very nature is collective property. However, this does not
mean that it is the property of an abstract community like the Occidental
nations. Empirical data refer to family networks, which remain
circumscribed despite unlimited prospects for expansion.
In order to be adopted as the basic institution for the social organization
that materialized after slavery, the conception of relationships between
116
human beings and natural resources embraced by joint collective ownership
had to be compatible with the circumstances under which the Caribbean
peasantry developed. Family lands and inheritance laws and how they were
passed on and utilized constituted a direct response to the colonial policy
of monopolizing natural resources and over-individualizing the labour
force.
The system of joint collective ownership was in fact a monopoly of the
community that opposed the control of the colonial State and metropolitan
sanctions by avoiding them. The system silently and constantly disobeyed
the principles on which the recruitment of labour to sustain the dominant
economy were based.
This manner of opposing an obstacle by avoiding it was one of the most
common survival strategies in the Caribbean. The population found in joint
collective ownership a mechanism that enabled it to break the economic
stranglehold of the planters on land and people. It was a unique societal
plan, combined resources, a family organization, a language, a religion and
symbolic systems into a palpable utopia. In a word, it was the main-stay of
the counter-plantation.
The response of collectively owned family property to the scattering of
plots owned by peasants was to consolidate landed property. The system's
solution to the dispersal of families as a result of labour migrations was an
indivisible and deeply-rooted family nucleus. In response to the difficulties
that the nuclear family faced in taking care of its members under
colonialism, the counter-plantation transformed community organizations
into meaningful family units.
The networks of lakou (yards) were responsible for maintaining and
passing on traditions, collective security, some aspects of identity and forms
of loyalty able to resist dispersion over time and space. As suggested by
Ema Brodber in a remarkable study, a lakou system seemed to exist.^^^
The author identifies 23 different types of yards. Some of them have a
residential connotation such as the yards or estates built by the government
or the yards comprising rented houses; other units have a religious
connotation such as Church Yard, Bedward Church Yard, Balm Yard,
Obeah Yard}^^ finally, others are utilitarian and are represented by
commercial, industrial, coal deposit or forage yards.
All the inhabitants of residential yards had several activities in common
such as taking care of children, the sexual educationof adolescents, cooking,
toilet facilities and the use of water fountains. In the late nineteenth century,
the yards served as a link between the peasantry and the dominant system.
Brodber presents this function in the following terms:
117
"For Jamaicans of all derivations, (...) the meaningof the term Yard
(becomes) a place where novitiates into a wage economy wait to
have their labour hired and their goods bought."^^
A comparison has to be made between the plantation society of the
nineteenth century and this outline of a Caribbean alternative. On one hand,
the planters, and to a lesser extent the colonial authorities, tried desperately
to copy the forms of economic and social organization of the eighteenth
century within an international context that was obviously unfavourable.
On the other hand, the people of the Caribbean tried to introduce new forms
of social and economic organization as well as new crops and fresh farming
methods and techniques.
The colonial authorities and planters did not care about the reproduction
of the population and even less about its education. They used their meagre
financial resources to import workers from other islands and indentured
labourers from Europe (Portugal) and Asia. The freedmen, on the other hand,
tried to devise ways and means of bringing about endogenous development:
Before praising the virtues of modem agriculture based on financial capital,
greater attention should be paid to W. K. Marshall's discovery:
"Peasant activity modified the character of the original pure
plantation economy and society. The peasants were the innovators
in the economic life of the community. Besides producing a great
quantity and variety of subsistence food and livestock they
introduced new crops and/or reintroduced old ones. This diversified
the basically moiiocultural pattern. Bananas, coffee, citrus,
coconuts, cocoa and logwood in Jamaica; cocoa, arrowroot, spices,
bananas and logwood in the Windward Islands; these were the main
export crops subsequently adopted by the planters and became
important elements.in the export trade by the 1870's. All of these
crops did not succeed. In addition, the success of the peasants in
combating attacks of disease on crops like cocoa and bananas was
always severely limited by their shortage of resources of capital and
knowledge."^^
As a result of technological progress and the managerial skills of the
freedmen, a market economy was established in the Caribbean; it was
precarious because of many obstacles invented by the colonial authorities
and their lieutenants. In that connection, share cropping was situated
between an obsolete plantation system and the comprehensive development
of mixed farming that should have followed the successive revolutions of
captives and the uprisings organized throughout the nineteenth century by
the freedmen.
118
The colonial governments deliberately obstructed the development of
private initiatives and free enterprise among the peoples of the Caribbean.
They did their best to ensure that the people did not have a wide range of
economic options to choose from. They reduced to a strict minimum the
chances of developing the only viable alternative to the plantation economy
by denying the population access to capital resources and destroying any
evolution towards a healthy market economy.
The monopoly of arable land by the colonial empires and the scattering
and breaking up of the population were countered by the establishment of
completely new and innovative institutions:
"The alternatives foreshadowed by the presence and activity of the
peasants had great social significance as well. The peasants
initiated the conversion of the plantation territories into modern
societies. In a variety of ways they attempted to build local
self-generating communities. They founded villages and markets,
they built churches and schools, they clamoured for extension of
educational facilities, for improvements in communication and
markets; they started the local co-operative movement."^^''
The peasants organized their own community life, kept their languages
distinct from those of the metropolises and introduced forms of economic
organization which led to a type of full employment, forcing planters to
import indentured labourers. Finally, they integrated their languages,
religions, landed property, families and communities into an organized
system.
The peasants created a people from a population and forged a nation
from the colonial categories of captives, emancipated slaves and indentured
labourers.
The Caribbean's collective thought and local culture were produced in
a context controlled by one of the most hostile institutions any labour force
had ever known. Scientific research should not merely discover the abstract
principles that shaped an era whose characteristics as a whole are not
understood by the average person. Such a macro-sociological approach is
not sufficient.
Sociology must update the basic principles of social practice and
understand the possible evolution of the populations of the region. By
explaining why people think as they do, sociology helps them not only to
shape their era according to their world view, but also to create a State that
is coherent with their culture.
The Caribbean nations differ from others in that they were not created
in an effort to overcome the rigours of the physical environment nor from
119
a collective defence of their common inheritance against land-craving
neighbours. Their solidarity stems from their resistance to forms of
oppression that attempt to invade the nooks and crannies of their daily life.
The world outside the Caribbean is not defined by geographical frontiers.
The complicated situation in which the peoples of the region found
themselves was created by the marginal nature of resources which were
made available to them following evaluations carried out under social
systems that were foreign to their ways of thinking. The utilization of such
"marginal" resources helped to reproduce and strengthen their forms of
collective solidarity. As time went by, the method of exploitation became
increasingly effective.
The interaction between the counter-plantation and the plantation
produced a vicious circle. More efficient popular crops accentuated the
original marginality of the available resources. Far from promoting the
insertion of such resources into the dominant economic systems, such
increased efficiency alienated them further from the dominant system.
It should be noted, however, that the dominant systems were not viable
because they were more rational or more logical. The plantation did not earn
its place in the economic geography of the nineteenth century because it
was rational. The dominant system was viable because it was imposed by
force.
The subordinate people of the Caribbean could not be persuaded that
the mechanisms of domination that kept the plantation alive were necessary.
Thus, the gap between their culture and that of the oppressors was
maintained as long as the effects of domination remained.
There are no states in the region whose political structure and ideology
, make them specifically Caribbean nations. The states that are an instrument
of negotiation with the former metropolises. It should be stressed in
concluding this chapter that, although there are no States that are profoundly
national in nature, this does not mean that no distinct and cohesive nations
exist. These are issues that are not directly linked to each other.
120
Chapter 6
ECONOMIES WITHOUT MARKETS
1. Introduction
During the golden age of slave plantations, the Caribbean economy was part
of the imperial economies. The international market did not exist. Rivalries
between the big powers were settled on the battlefields.
The international market appeared in the nineteenth century with the
rise in liberalism. Plantations tried to keep out of free trade.
For the colonial élites without any experience of relations other than the
trade monopoly system, the international market was not where their
enterprises interacted with other units of the same type. They made every
effort to redefine their relations with their respective metropolis, hoping in
so doing to avoid competition.
The fact that the Caribbean economies were part of the Western system
did not mean that they operated like the Western economies. This chapter
does not intend to define the laws that underpinned the Caribbean economy.
Its purpose is to identify all the social relationships that produced and
duplicated the endemic poverty of the population and its age-old
backwardness when compared to the rich societies.
Attention will be focused on the contemporary period. The Caribbean
has the sad privilege of containing one of the poorest countries in the whole
world. Social scientists are obviously interested in scarcity and shortages,
since scarcity and shortages are, by definition, the usual pre-requisites of
development. The aim of scientific research is to understand the mechanism
that triggers endogenous development. At the same time, such research
indicates how endemic poverty can be overcome.
The present document points out that in social sciences the meaningful
unit of analysis is social intercourse itself. A description of poverty does not
entail drawing up a table of shortcomings but rather presenting relationships
between the rich and the poor.
121
The premise of social change is that the modification of a situation
deemed unacceptable depends not on the generosity or pity shown by the
dominant system but on negotiations between the parties concerned. Such
negotiations are better co-ordinated when they are institutionalized.
We have already submitted that the agricultural worker of the region is
not a proletarian but a free man. He is a liberated or emancipated slave and
consequently a worker in a specific system and a prisoner who is subject to
the definitions of that system.
We have attempted to show that such circumstances do not define the
range of choices open to the freedmen. We have also seen that although
such choices are endogenous they do not produce steady improvements in
their standards of living.
At the end of the previous chapter, we quoted from a passage by the
historian W. K. Marshall on the "adoption" by the planters of the innovations
introduced into agriculture by the Caribbean peasantry. The full
significance of this observation should not be underestimated because it
actually indicates how poverty occurred and was maintained at the national
and regional levels.
Obviously, the planters did not merely adopt the innovations of peasant
agriculture. Export-oriented production and trade were so closely linked in
the local economies that the planters capitalized all development and
prevented any trickle-down effects on the rest of the population.
In the following paragraphs, we will try to trace the history of the
planters and traders. Bankrupt plantations did not affect the planters
and their allies. They maintained their dominant positions in the face
of severe economic crises. We must find out how they managed to
preserve their preeminence despite the modest life-styles that they
sometimes maintained.
How did the planters ensure that the peasants always remained poorer
than they? What was the reason why the peasants and planters did not
become farmers or heads of capitalist agricultural enterprises?
2. Caribbean poverty
Some features of the plantation remained unchanged throughout its history.
It should always be remembered that the plantation was established by the
large trading companies of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and that
it always remained dependent on trading activities.
Two types of workers: i) wage earners and ii) indentured labourers and
captives were employed in export agriculture. TTiis chapter does not deal
122
with the former, who were employed in the public or private services sector.
The latter group, indentured labourers and captives were manual workers.
It has already been seen that the plantation system made no provision
for the natural reproduction of the labour force that it used. It needed a steady
inflow of workers, captives or indentured labourers to be able to operate
properly. However, regardless of the turnover rate of the labour force, the
system had to ensure that the energy used by the workers was replenished.
The workers had to be housed, fed, clothed and looked after.
On the plantations, the captive labour force was used to produce export
crops, while food for their sustenance was bought from local importers. It
was often said of the Caribbean economy that it produced what it did not
consume and consumed what it did not produce.
In the times of slavery, the slave owners were responsible for replacing
the energy used up by their workers. The governments of the colony were
not responsible for the internal administrative problems of the plantations.
Of course, the colonial administration set out regulations relating to
discipline at work sites and urged owners to see to the welfare of their
captives. The captives' food and health, the care of children, the sick and
the elderly, the police, the administration of justice, religious instruction,
leisure activities and so on all fell under the planters' management of
their private property. The planters were free to use and abuse such
property.
On the large, complex estates, the captives were sometimes allocated
plots of land where they could grow their own food outside "working
hours", instead of being provided with imported food. The metropolitan
Powers did their utmost to encourage this practice.
Thus, in private life, a system was established for replenishing the
energy lost through work and for eventually ensuring the reproduction of
the labour force. It should be noted that these were either activities that
occurred after the normal day's work was over or activities whose products
could circulate only on the fringes of the economic system.
With the abolition of the slave trade and general emancipation, the
colonial State compensated those who lost "their" labour (i.e., workers) and
took measures to ensure that such "labour" did not find any alternative
employment. The State was not always concerned about the welfare of the
population and the public services that it lacked.
The agricultural workers might have become a landless proletariat had
they been paid subsistence wages all year long or had they been offered
other jobs. A plantation system based on a limited supply of labour had to
devise a means of ensuring the reproduction of that labour force in order to
123
keep production cycles going. That was why the marginal agricultural
enterprises that mushroomed were tolerated.
The planters felt -and many historians agree- that subsistence farms
were the embryo of peasant agriculture. The structural limitations of
subsistence farms, which set them apart from European, African and Latin
American peasant organizations should not be overlooked.
Peasant agriculture in the Caribbean could not be a normal economic
activity in the sense of a venture capable of limitless growth and
development. It relied on the same "limited" source of labour and arable
land. Plantations were eliminated from economic geography, as they were
in Haiti during the entire nineteenth century.
It was noted in chapter 5 that after emancipation the authorities
protected the monopoly of land held by the planters. Moreover, they
took various measures to force labourers to work on the plantations.
The plans of the colonial authorities did not make any provisions for
workers to lead their private lives as they wished. Their living conditions
could not be improved at the expense of the labour force required by the
plantations.
The freedman was basically a person whose freedom was exercised
within limits imposed by others. Such limitations made him poor.
By observing the system of sugar cane cultivation we have been able
to define this category of worker. Attention has been focused on his
methods of bargaining. We have seen the birth of agricultural workers'
unions, their development into labour parties and their decline. We have
also indicated that slaves were freed following the employment of
migrant workers.
After concluding in the previous chapter that the counter-plantation and
its institutions constituted the backbone of nationhood and Caribbean
culture, we must now analyse how the planters saw the role played by the
counter-plantation. Specifically, we must describe to what extent planters
tolerated subsistence farms and saw them as true reflections of colonial
society.
The freedman was a worker who was neither allowed to define nor to
take part in defining his economic options. A behaviour model was planned
and imposed on him.
A study of how the foregoing was accomplished will show how the
planters evolved. There is no need to deduce such evolution by making
comparisons with forms of production that were typical of other social
contexts. The survival strategy of the dominant social category could be
observed in action.
124
The end of the slave trade opened up two development options for
Caribbean agriculture. An internal market could have evolved where the
free play of market forces would have led to the establishment of modern
agriculture. What actually happened was the alternative option, namely, a
series of measures that were designed not to protect the local market -an
error of perspective that was too often committed- but to protect the owners
of official economic institutions.
In order to ensure the growth of an export-oriented agricultural
economy with a limited supply of labour, provision had to be made for cheap
labour. Raw materials had to be produced or purchased cheap in order to
leave enough of a margin for fixing production costs.
The plantation system had to produce consumer items on the
subsistence farms or to purchase them on the international market. The
money value of locally-produced food was established on the basis of what
it would have cost had it been imported.
In the eighteenth century, the produce bought from the local farm
markets had to be cheaper than imported food. That situation did not change
after emancipation; otherwise traders would have seen to it that prices were
reduced. The more the prices of imported food declined, the lower was the
value of farm output.
The farms had two outlets for their products. Part of their output went
to satisfy the demand of the production services or urban sector; the other
part was used to feed the workers themselves.
Improvements in peasant mixed farming increased the social costs of
plantation labour. The supply of labour was probably less than what a
plantation economy required.
The estates required surplus, cheap labour. The counter-plantation
required a few days of well-paid labour.
If the value of consumer goods
was directly proportional to that of imported goods, the number of man-days
that the freedman was prepared to offer on the market increased in
proportion to the decline in the prices of imported goods.
The resources upon which the rural population depended for its
reproduction consisted of the value of peasant production plus the earnings
of agricultural workers for plantation work. If, as the population grew, more
farmland could have been made available to it, the system would have been
able to produce the labour needed.
Initially, as the supply of labour rose steadily following the opening up
of new land, labour costs declined and the prices of export crops became
competitive. Things moved towards a point of equilibrium between the
small-scale farms and the estates.
125
Assuming the plantation and counter-plantation developed without
any restraints, a measure of equilibrium would have been attained when
the most complex unit in terms of capital invested and division of
labour was not able to operate without securing a minimum of labour
and the consumer items required to cover the living expenses of such
labour.
Next would come a period when increased production would reduce
labour costs through the inj ection of heavier doses of capital and technology.
At that point, piecework would become obsolete. The employer would have
to ensure that a certain number of hours of work were performed and a
certain level of productivity was attained. Wages proper would emerge in
the rural areas.
A domestic market would be created. Money would circulate among
the peasantry. The costs of production factors would inevitably have to be
compared. Destitution would give way to relative poverty.
This model assumes that the planter put his product on the market at his
own risk, that prices of producer services were determined by the laws of
supply and demand and were included in the planter's production costs if
he used such services. It assumes that the consumer goods used in urban
areas were supplied by the local farms at prices below those of the
international market.
The flow of local consumer goods among rural and urban workers
would gradually lead to a single wage scale. As money was used as a
means of payment for the trade in g o o d s produced by
counter-plantations, capitalization prospects for counter-plantations
would develop.
Farms would tend to specialize. As a result of competition from
imported goods their productivity would improve steadily. A greater
division of labour would stimulate the application of new technologies and
mixed farms would develop into modem family farms geared to the local
market. A dividing line would appear between agricultural workers and
purely peasant families.
Plantations would have shed their mercantile aura. Their momentum of
growth would have transformed the agriculture-based export economy into
an agroindustrial and industrial economy that sold its surpluses on external
markets.
The poverty observed in the Caribbean countryside was not related in
any way to the standard of living indices. All peoples have gone through
periods of shortages. Such shortages are not overcome in order to develop.
Development is achieved by overcoming such shortages.
126
We want to show that it is not the market that triggers the
marginalization of large strata of the population. On the contrary, such
marginality disapjjears if the laws of competition are respected.
Although the counter-plantation and plantation were opposing systems,
they could still compromise. What is not clear is how in the end one of them
was absorbed by the other.
It should be noted that the ideal model above assumes that economic
decisions respected the free choices of all the actors. The Caribbean actually
developed in a totally different direction. Political forces intervened at any
time in the production process. The region's economic history is in fact the
history of the intervention of such political forces.
After the slaves had been freed, measures taken to "settle" the freedmen
consisted of preventing the free movement of the labour force and hence
preventing the development of a labour exchange. Such measures were
political. The controlling power of the colonial authorities varied according
to the aptitudes of individual territories.
In some fertile and underpopulated territories, arichand well structured
peasant agriculture was organized. It was based on two factors: the maroon
(black settler) economy and the subsistence farm markets. In such cases,
the number of days that the freedmen were prepared to offer to the export
sector were few and expensive.
The factors responsible for surplus food production also created
conditions that favoured the cultivation of export crops, provided the
problem of labour costs could be resolved. We have seen that the bargaining
power of the freedmen was undermined as a result of the recruitment of
indentured workers.
The planters of the Guyanas, Trinidad, Cuba, the Dominican Republic
and, to a smaller extent Jamaica, used that strategy. They artificially reduced
the price of labour and during a fairiy long period managed to offer their
products at competitive prices.
When similar strategies isolated the counter-plantation from the
plantation, the trade in produce grown in gardens and consumed by the
freedmen became a disguised form of barter. Capital accumulation was not
conceivable in such rural food markets. Peasant production, which was part
of the "real wages" of agricultural workers, was able to develop on squatted
land. However, it did not stimulate economic growth.
As a result of the continuing surplus of manpower with no bargaining
skills (bossales) on the labour market, the freedmen never evolved into
wage-earning agricultural workers. They became trapped between the two
systems as pieceworkers.
127
A policy of importing indentured labour prevented the plantation from
having any linkage e f f e c t s on the counter-plantation. The
counter-plantation was forced to develop in isolation. This happened on
the islands where, for one reason or another, the plantations could not
flourish or went bankrupt.
Under such conditions, poverty was widespread regardless of the
volume of food available. The evidence collected by the Royal Commission
of 1897 shows that such analyses on the nature of poverty in the Caribbean
are not new:
"Their condition (of the poor) (is) worse now than formerly; a great
number are in want, not in want of food in the country but almost
anything else, nor many earn wages."^^^
The importance of work on the plantations stemmed from the fact that
since the services required to keep activities going in the rural areas were
not offered by the former owners of labour nor by the State, the freedmen
had to provide them or purchase them. The rural communities tried no doubt
to satisfy their basic needs but they could not produce all the basic services
within the framework of free villages.
The health services, formal education and instruction in the dominant
language which were indispensable in dealing with official institutions were
not accessible to them.^^^
As the village societies could not provide all the services they needed
to be able to thrive, there was one aspect of the freedman's "real wages"
which did not have any exchange value. It had to be acquired at all costs;
this led to an emigration of the peasant labour force even in the expanding
peasant societies.
As André Corten said in reference to Haiti, the function of migration
was not to earn more but to save some money.
Such emigration was caused by the fact that the plantation society was
unable to provide the population with basic services or means of acquiring
such services. When the plantation sector was affected by a crisis and even
the towns lacked social welfare services, the whole society was in trouble.
In the cases where the plantation crisis was compounded by failure of the
peasant economy or heavy imports of foodstuffs, migration quickly turned
into exodus.
The situation of the territories where the plantation economy received
steady inflows of migrant labourers, was however, different from that of the
territories where the plantation economy went bankrupt. In the latter case,
the cash requirements of the peasant economy were satisfied through the
production of export crops even within the counter-plantation system. That
128
was what happened in Haiti, which grew coffee, and in Dominica, Saint
Vincent and Saint Lucia, which raised bananas.
In the above-mentioned cases, mixed farming gave way to
specialization of family enterprises. No economic theory can explain why
such specialization did not lead to the development of a capitalist economy.
The new and aggravating situation, which was not experienced by the
ordinary agricultural worker, was the fact that it was impossible to organize
"unions". These independent workers did not have any employers with
v/hom they could quarrel. They managed to survive by producing more and
more export crops. On the other hand, the entire population was forced to
purchase imported food. The local market-garden economy was destroyed.
Emigration became depopulation.
In the rest of this chapter, we will show what became of the planters
when the plantations went bankrupt. We will see that their systematic
destruction of the market was designed to maintain the prestige and
security of the local plantocracies, which had been transformed into
consignees.
3. Planters and the market
The plantation economies of the contemporary Caribbean have preferred to
operate with foreign workers. It would be useful to prepare a model of an
exploitation colony and its relations with the metropolises in order to discuss
the processes of decolonization in the Caribbean.
It is not clear how a colonial economy became a national economy. The
plantation, which was the basic institution of the regional economy was not
able to operate with nationals, i.e., citizens.
The Caribbean economy was created by mercantilism. Its dynamism
was generated by its special links with the outside worid, which evolved
from mercantilism to monopoly capitalism; however, the links between the
regional economy and the worid economy did not change. In the Caribbean
it was observed that i) external "trade" dominated; ii) that economic (though
not necessarily productive) activities capable of satisfying this type of
external "trade" prevailed; iii) that the political and administrative apparatus
played a key role in the development of the domestic economy; and iv) that
the population depended on a number of counter-plantation economic
activities to reproduce itself.
The reference to the predominance of external "trade" does not have
anything to do with trading products on a market where States, countries or
"overseas" units interacted with each other. In his chapter on sugar
129,
production, Sidney Mintz aptly quotes from a paragraph of John Stuart Mill
where the latter argues along such lines.
Mill asserts that the West Indian colonies should not
considered as
countries with their own production capital; they were areas where England
deemed it suitable to produce crops it was interested in by investing its own
capital in order to satisfy its exclusive requirements.
The crops produced by the West Indies were not sent to England to be
exchanged for products that the inhabitants of the colonies needed. Their
owners sent them to England to be sold for profit.
"The trade with the West Indies is hardly to be considered an external
trade, but more resembles the traffic between town and country."^^^
It is difficult to challenge the validity of these arguments without
forgetting that the metropolises and their nationals owned the colonies
outright. Above all, the inhabitants of the colonies belonged to the
metropolitans and their descendants. That was why the mother countries of
the colonies hastened to compensate their citizens when they deprived them
of some of their ownership rights.
We cannot understand the real relationships between the economy and
society in the Caribbean if we use models of autonomous capitalist
enterprises. William Davies, leader of the Dominican planters at the end of
the nineteenth century, suggested to the Royal Commission of 1897 that it
should take certain measures to ensure that the island's economic
development was controlled by the planters.
The main condition was that planters should be placed under the State's
protection. This would enable them to avoid obstacles stemming from
competition. He identified four such obstacles that the British Government
itself should eliminate.
First, England should not impose on its colonies unfair competition
from beet sugar that was subsidized by the countries of the European
"continent". The English islands should not be treated in the same way as
foreign countries. Conflicting interests should not be allowed to mar
relations between Britain and her colonies which, after all, were part and
parcel of Britain.
Secondly, it should be understood that the planters were not economic
agents maintaining relations of complementarity with partners in the same
milieu. They had to be spared such relations. Their conflicts of interests with
the territory's refineries and traders constituted two areas of friction that the
State had to eliminate.
Thirdly, according to Davies, the planter had to deal directly with the
consumer. He had to be given the ways and means of breaking into the
130,
metropolitan market. He had to control the manufacture and distribution of
sugar with the help of State- supplied capital. He should not have to turn to
middlemen, particularly "the clique of West Indian traders", for loans.
The London merchants were the last obstacle to the development of the
colonies. The State had to displace them as financiers. The capital required
to resuscitate the plantations should be supplied by the Crown itself and not
bought on the open market.
"The ruin of the planter being complete, the resuscitation of the industry
must commence from the foundation, and the British Government is the
fons et origo malorem, restitution and help must proceed thence (...). The
first step for the British Government to take is the total or partial demolition
of the National Free Trade fetish."^^^
Lord Olivier, Chairman of the West India Sugar Commission (1930),
without going as far as Davies, said that the mother country had the moral
obligation to protect planters from free competition.
"I have no desire to avoid or dissemble the basal issue, which is -do we
prefer to have cheaper sugar or to preserve our oldest colonies, which regard
themselves as part of our community. (...) Our imperial State definitely and
constitutionally, and especially in the West Indies, by a profound and
indestructible historical sentiment, includes our own Crown colonies. Our
Imperial economy includes the Colonial sugar industry which actually
supplies one-third of our own consumption. The Imperial Government
apparently is not prepared to regard these colonies as having any claim
except the luck of the open market. (...) We should naturally assume that
it would not be possible for any British Government to take the view that
they should leave them simply to the chances of the market and not take
some special measures to keep these industries and colonies going."^^"
Lord Olivier's view, with which William Davis naturally concurs, is
that, if the government "leaves the colonies to the chances of the market":
"... in despair, the whole of the West Indies will have to turn to the
United States for help, as the paramount power in this continent.
Failing justice from Great Britain, we must try to shame the Britons
into doing their duty.
Since the planters and representatives of the metropolises did not
consider the plantation an economic enterprise similar to any other, at least
up until 1930, one wonders why the social sciences persist in doing so. For
planters to be considered as economic agents, the value added in the colony,
which had to be paid by the plantation's clients for the production cycle to
begin again, has to be calculated.
131,
In the nineteenth century, as in the era of large trading companies, the
planter secured all his production inputs from a consignee. When the crops
were harvested, they were handed over to the trader, who sold them.
The value of the advances made to the planter and the consignee's
commission were deducted from the proceeds of the sale of foodstuffs and
the balance went to the planter. This was the type of export trade that both
English and French colonies practiced. Michael Sleeman calls it the
consignee system}^'^
The produce of the plantations was therefore neither exported nor
imported and the metropolitan market was not an "external" market.
Planters did not have direct access to the consumers and made profits only
through consignees.
Consignees did not take any risks. They provided a service and charged
commissions regardless of the going prices. Obviously, such consignees, as
their name indicated, did not buy the planters' produce. They took it in as
deposits.
Like intermediate products within the same enterprise, colonial crops
had no real value in the colonies. Their cost was not based on operations
carried out within the colonies. This cost comprised capital advances,
consignees' commissions and transport costs.
The adjustment margin for production costs was therefore very
small.^^^ That was why competition frightened planters.
In conclusion, although there was an international market, the
Caribbean did not really offer its products for sale on that market. European
trading companies did so on its behalf. Production advances, including
foreign capital received by the region, were not imports aimed at meeting
the population's needs but im^rts designed to enable the "owners" to keep
the production cycles going.^'^
The problem here was basically one of converting the original property
rights of the trading companies in the colonies into property rights of the
economic agents who intended to operate in those colonies.
In the previous chapters we saw that the peasantry introduced a number
of social and economic changes. We wonder why the planters were unable
to find some solutions to the problems facing their businesses. The
conditions of economic growth of the plantations were probably not always
favourable. Such conditions cannot, however, explain why the planters were
such poor managers.
The peasants lacked capital, protection, markets and large volumes of
output. They would not even have existed if the external conditions of
economic growth had been as important as the planters thought they were.
1^2
The economic failure of the planters was not attributable to the scarcity
of capital, the smaller profit margin or the conditions of the international
market. Such conditions could account, however, for the economic failure
of the plantations (which should not be confused with the failure of the
planters).
Planters should not be compared to entrepreneurs in capitalist
economies. Such entrepreneurs took risks to place products on the market.
The principles of the capitalist economy affected their decisions, and their
skill lay in trying to manipulate the market in their favour.
The planter's revenues were not profits. They did not depend on how
skilfully he manage the uncertainties of the productive system. He did not
use his imagination to change his output to reflect the costs of inputs.
Theoretically, he owned the produce of his plantation. But he entrusted the
task of selling his produce to others over whom he had no control
whatsoever.
The planter was at the mercy of trade laws. His behaviour resembled
that of an employee who dreams only of increasing his earnings by making
the least possible effort.
The difficulty in defining the planter stems from the mistaken belief
that he mostly operated in economic circles. The plantation system was not
a stage in economic development; it neither resulted from nor preceded any
form of production. The plantation was a product of politics and it thrived
in the political arena.
Thus, the planter moved in many other areas that had nothing to do with
economics. In the political and ideological spheres which he understood
better than market forces, he was not a failure.
4. The freedmen and the market
Sugar cane, without any doubt, was the most typical colonial crop. The sugar
companies generally operated as self-sufficient enclaves. They produced
almost all the sugar cane that was milled in their factories and purchased on
the average at least 20% of their raw materials from medium-sized
producers or "contributors".
The entire working population was, so to speak, part of the
agro-industrial complex. If, as we saw, the planter's margin for making
economic decisions was limited, that of the worker was or should have been
insignificant or, more likely, nil.
Banana production was different. Bananas were not processed before
leaving the country. Moreover, they started being cultivated after the
general emancipation, that is, when workers became full-fledged economic
agents. Unlike sugar cane, bananas were mostly grown on farms and the
bulk of production was supplied by the smallest farms.
Sugar and bananas were distributed differently on the international
market. In the case of sugar, we saw that some mill owners or their
associations discussed with the metropolitan governments the degree of
protection to be accorded to the industry. With respect to bananas, the bulk
of producers were organized by local traders, who came to an understanding
with transnational enterprises for the product's distribution on external
markets in exchange, if possible, for a guarantee from the metropolitan
government.
The national production of bananas involved the establishment of
associations of local "growers" the majority of whom were peasants; their
administrators were traders. The analysis of this arrangement enables us to
understand one of the mechanisms through which the market as a local
institution was destroyed.
Bananas began to be cultivated in Jamaica in the late nineteenth century.
In most of the other territories the banana was developed as an export crop
after the Second World War. Its cultivation usually followed the failure of,
or a profound crisis in, the sugar industry.
In their studies of banana production, George Beckford and Michael
Witter show how the rich mulatto peasants made profits from bananas in
order to accumulate wealth and establish themselves as middlemen between
small growers and consignees.
These authors inform us that in Jamaica, bananas helped to intensify
ties between the freedmen, who worked as labourers, and the independent
peasants. There was also more frequent social intercourse between these
two sections of the labour force: the dock workers, transport workers and
clerks in charge of consolidating, purchasing and dispatching crops. Such
intercourse was accompanied by greater involvement of women in the
labour market, especially in domestic services.^^^
Banana cultivation therefore brought in its wake a number of
intenelated social changes. As we noted at the beginning of the chapter, we
would have expected a market economy to develop.
Saint Lucia and Dominica were monoproducers of bananas. A study of
their production of bananas helps to illustrate how, as the land area under
colonial sugar shrank, several institutionalized arrangements were
established 1) to pass on to the less fortunate political actors the risks of
these new ventures, and 2) to avoid the obstacles that caused the failure of
colonial sugar production.
134
Since the bulk of cane used in sugar production was cultivated on the
plantations themselves, social conflicts stemmed from the fixing of
labourers' "wages". The price paid to "contributors" for the cane they
supplied became a secondary problem. We have seen the political
consequences of that system.
The expansion of banana cultivation and its substitution for sugar
cane undoubtedly caused the decline in the political power of the
"unions".^'® The planters and traders united under the umbrella of various
national banana "growers'" associations in which independent peasants
were invited to participate. The social negotiations that affected the
population's welfare were entrusted to these groups of large growers and
traders.
In the areas where sugar cane plantations dominated the economic
system, the bi-polar structure of the society was almost palpable. The
economic interests of the majority of the population were focused on the
production of sugar cane in exchange for satisfactory standards of living.
Owners and workers belonged to separate categories.
Outside the sugar industry, in so far as the population had access to plots
of land under some form of tenure, conflicts between the big owners and
139
peasants were not generally expressed in visible social movements.
There were no legal channels for arbitrating such conflicts, and political
forces were so unevenly matched that an armed struggle was unthinkable.
From emancipation until the first half of the twentieth century, a
compromise was struck between large estates that specialized mainly in the
production of export crops, and small farms devoted mainly to the
production of foodcrops. Land was unevenly distributed, but since the large
estates and small-scale farms had different objectives,^"^® they evolved
without any major social clashes between them.
The conflicts that arose between big and small landowners had to do
with the distribution of land resources and were resolved in political terms
and not on the basis of economic principles. The economic negotiations that
were held during that period took place within the sugar industry. The
agricultural workers became the spokesmen for the labour force.
The introduction of bananas and their production on a large scale at the
end of the 1940s caused fundamental changes in the compromise between
large landowners and small-scale farmers. Self-generating development
based on banana cultivation was capitalized by the local traders and big
planters through the banana associations.
The purpose of the negotiations between the associations and the
growers was how to distribute the revenue that accrued to the territory for
ns
its entire production. We will later show the special distribution process for
such revenue and the measures taken to stifle any negotiation.
The banana associations were established from the 1930s onwards.
They went into crisis during the Second World War and resuscitated during
the postwar period.
In 1958, the Commission of Enquiry chaired by Milton Cato defined
the members of the Board of Management of the Dominica Banana
Association as people who controlled the purchase of bananas for their own
profits. The Board was also depicted either as a class of old members, some
of whom devoted their time to purchasing bananas from growers and
reselling them to the Association as their own products, or as members of
the ruling class.
The Saint Lucia Association, which was established in 1953 by five
planters, a trader and an accountant, did not claim to be a commercial
enterprise. Its articles of association stated that it was established to
promote self-help among its members and not to make profits but to act
as an agent for the growers who were registered as members of the
Association.^'*^
The first Saint Lucia Banana Growers' Association was dissolved in
1967. In August of the same year an act of the Legislative Assembly
replaced it by a State enterprise with monopoly on all transactions related
to bananas.^
In 1967, 17 000 growers registered with the Saint Lucia Banana
Growers' Association. By 1977-1978, there were only 6 400
members.^'*'* The growers of Saint Lucia were divided into four categories:
"growers", "small growers", "medium growers", and "big growers",
depending on their volume of transactions. The "growers" and "small
growers" (99.4% of the members) accounted at the end of 1970 for about
65% of the country's banana output.^'*"''
The Association's Board of Management was made up of
representatives of "big growers" (0.1% of the total membership). There
were five in 1977 and six in 1978. Two representatives were allocated to
the "medium growers" (0.5% of the membership or 31 persons). The "small
growers", who accounted for less than 10% of the membership, also had
two representatives.
There were 5 500 "growers" representing 90% of the members of the
Association. The "growers" could not be elected to the decision-making
organs. The "big and medium growers", that is, 0.6% of the members,
therefore dominated the Board of Management. The Legislative Assembly
made them consignees of the Board.
136
Growers were classified according to their volume of "production" and
not by the land area of their establishments. However, it should be noted
that farms of 200 acres or more accounted for 0.6% of all the agricultural
holdings in Saint Lucia in 1976 and took up 52.7% of the total land area
under cultivation.^"*^
In Dominica, bananas took up 52% of the farm area under cultivation.
As in Saint Lucia, the bulk of the banana output came from small producers,
even though they had the smallest portion of arable land.
"By the end of 1952 (...) almost 60% of the output of bananas for exjport
comes from peasants and possibly half of this is from squatted land."^
J.M. Marie observed a similar situation in the 1960s,
which must
have deteriorated gradually in view of the tendency to subdivide
smallholdings even f u r t h e r . I n 1961, farms of 100 acres and above
accounted for about 1% of the country's farms, and took up 55% of the
arable land.
One study noted that towards 1960-1961, about 50% of estate land was
not being cultivated.^^® Another study found that 65% of the land occupied
by big estates was not under cultivation, compared to 49% for farms of 5 to
50 acres and 3% for farms of less than an acre.^"^^
Accordingly, J.A.N. Burra in his report on land administration in
Dominica recommended in vain:
"There is no alternative but to recommend the introduction of land
tax upon lands classed as Agriculturally productive which are
unworked. The tax should be such as either to encourage idle and
absentee landowners to work the land or to sell it."^"'*^
The best lands remained idle and the food crop farms were used to
produce the main export crop. In order to improve the yields of marginal
growers, the Banana Association supplied them with fertilizers and
pesticides, and insured them against hurricanes and other natural disasters.
The inevitable failures to improve the productivity of these farms
justified the lack of confidence in the administration of the Banana
Association.^^^ To understand this "development strategy" it should be
noted that even though the small growers did not have a hand in the decisions
taken they had to reimburse the expenditures made to improve the yield of
their crop. It should also be borne in mind that the Association had the
monopoly of all transactions relating to the banana industry. In brief, the
more the Association spent on promoting marginal activities, the bigger
commission it earned.
The grower's total earnings were calculated on the basis of what was
known as the green market price of the banana delivered to London
137
merchants. From that amount the expenses of the commercial agent (the
transnational company Geest W. I., Ltd.) were deducted; the remainder was
the base price paid to the banana associations.
In turn, the associations deducted from the base price their current
expenses, that is, expenses in respect of administration, packaging, internal
transport, plant disease control, the costs of fertilizers advanced to the
growers, the costs of other credits and their supervision as well as other
contributions such as insurance costs. The remainder was the price received
by the grower.
"The price received by the grower is arrived at only after Geest has
deducted from the green market price per ton, 40% for freight charges,
variable costs, fixed costs and a shrinkage and wastage charge, and after the
Banana Association has made a further deduction of 35% for operating
expenses and current debt. The association also deducts charges for
leaf-spo^ spraying, diothene, fertiliser and weedicide purchased on
credit."!-'^'^
Apart from the prices of green bananas, none of the other transactions
described above were subject to the play of market forces. The banana
industry was totally dependent on the transnational enterprise that acted as
its commercial agent. The Association had no control whatsoever over the
prices of green bananas nor on the costs of the transnational enterprise. It
was hardly an exaggeration to say that the Association had no control over
the prices it was paid.^^"^
The grower had to face so many factors beyond his control that at
the end of the production cycle he could even find himself owing money
to national and international m i d d l e m e n . T h e comments of John
Stuart Mill and Williams Davies quoted in chapter 5 are equally relevant
here.
What the planters of the nineteenth century used to call the clique of
West Indian traders was replaced by the banana associations united under
a single regional unit -the West Indian Banana Association (WINBAN). The
novelty is that the "clique" today comprises the big growers themselves. As
for the freedmen, by legislative decision, they were barred from all
transactions and all decision-making.
5. The State and the market
The political authorites gave the banana associations the widest mandate
possible to manage the industry. They were generally authorized, as in
Dominica, "to rehabilitate banana plantations and stimulate production, to
138
market and control the disposal of all bananas produced in the colony of
Dominica and intended to be exported therefrom and in addition to control
the disposal of all bananas not intended for export but intended to be used
either wholly or partially as an ingredient in any manufactured product and
to have the general management and control over all matters relating to
banana disease throughout the colony."^^^
This mandate revived the economic dualism that had waned as a result
of intensive banana production. It meant that urban middlemen had to be
involved in handling the bananas if they were to be switched from the
distribution channels where surpluses of foodcrop farms were marketed.
Two separate markets were therefore institutionalized: a (marginal)
market for the output of market gardens, and a market for commercial
agriculture located in Great Britain which was inaccessible to the island's
growers. The banana associations were established as a liaison mechanism
or as a way of ensuring continuity between two systems of production and
consumption.
These legislative decisions destroyed any prospects of the market
gardens' entering into competition with each other even to meet large-scale
demands for bananas. Small farms were caught up in satisfying the
consumption needs of farmers and producing the supplementary foodstuffs
needed by a few wage earners to survive.
A key problem prevented the associations from fulfilling their avowed
aims. The associations were able to infiate their administrative expenses
and the volume and costs of fertilizers and pesticides required with
impunity.
Moreover, the institutionalized separation of the production units from
the trading companies placed the latter in a good position to protect their
profit margins. Since the local market was flooded with cheap imported
goods, the peasantry was drawn into consuming greater quantities of
"modem" goods. At the same time, the farms tended to produce export crops
almost to the exclusion of everything else.
"The study puts in evidence that in farms established before the Banana
Boom, 68.7% of the farmers produced for subsistence at the beginning,
while none of them did so after the boom. Of the farms established after the
introduction of banana, only 3.4% were dedicated to subsistence crops
during the first year of production, and logically none of them would do so
in subsequent years."^
The prospects of meeting the population's basic food and housing
requirements from the farms or of exchanging provisions obtained from the
farms, vanished. The steady growth in the total value of imports, particularly
139
food imports, proved this. From 1970 to 1980, food exports rose from
US$9.4 to US$10.5 million (EC). Food imports increased from US$7.4 to
US$25.7 million (EC).^^^
Thus, the peasants were not able to save and accumulate capital. Outside
the market, treasures could be accumulated but not capital. Savings and
capital became a "monopoly" of banana associations -which had access to
these through third parties-and food importers.
If current agricultural development policies are anything to go by, the
capital of enterprises is derived mainly from bank credits. We saw that joint
collective ownership of property would, therefore, be the main obstacle to
the growth of production and productivity.
Finance capital is a derived and secondary source of investment. Any
entrepreneur first invests his own savings and then capital purchased on the
market. In the economic organization analysed, it was the State itself that
denied the farm administrators access to the profits accruing from any
independent economic performance and blocked any prospects of
accumulating capital.
Such action by the State did not affect farmers alone. It denied the
industrialist the right to dispose of the main commodity and the possibility
of processing it. Under the laws in force, agroindustries had to produce
higher profits at smaller risks and in shorter periods of time than the banana
"trade". The economic relations that should have governed the capital
market were nullified by the law.
This level of "export protection" provided to the banana administration
was more efficient than any economic measures. The preferential treatment
given to the consignees over the farmers and industrialists was the
cornerstone of the plantation system and the source of widespread poverty.
The "monopoly" over the banana trade granted to the associations was
not obtained through the elimination of less able competitors. Moreover,
and contrary to the usual types of monopolistic competition, there was no
relation between the prices and volume of transactions. Everything was
done through contractual arrangements.
Legislators made reference to banana "sellers". A clause stipulated that
new members of the Association must transfer -presumably against
payment- ownership rights over a certain quantity of bananas. However,
the associations did not buy goods that they would resell; they controlled
the disposal of such goods.
Ownership of the bananas was transferred to third parties between the
time when the associations acquired the bananas and when their owners
140
were paid for them. The transfer of bananas from the growers to the
associations was a kind of barter and not a process of supply and demand.
In the same vein, the payments made by foreign traders to the
associations and the payments that the associations made to national
producers merely represented the allocation of operational costs within
divisions of the same enterprise. The family farms at the lower end of the
production chain became increasingly poorer instead of becoming modern
production units.
The areas where peasants could make autonomous decisions
gradually declined and tended to disappear. Independent agricultural
production was transformed and led to the absurd development of
piecework. This was noted in a report commissioned by the Caribbean
Development Bank:
... in spite of the appeal of bananas as a source of quick profits the
push did not come from below. Indeed, we are of the impression
that many are reluctant participants in a system where the small
scale nature of production camouflages what is essentially a wage
relationship with Geest and the Banana Association.^^
The economic decision-making powers that were taken away from the
individual producers were concentrated in the hands of the associations,
which administered the affairs of the territories concerned with the greatest
freedom and impunity.
The operations of the banana associations were tainted with
incompetence and corruption. From 1958 until 1980, commissions of
enquiry succeeded one another in trying to stamp out that blight and force
governments to take appropriate measures. In 1958, the Cato Commission
reported the following:
We were astonished to find that in spite of the clearly unsatisfactory
state of the Association's affairs Government abandoned its
responsibility for carrying out the Association's Audit without
ensuring that any alternative arrangements were made. It is no
wonder that in these circumstances the accounting system broke
down completely and that certain members of the staff left as they
were without proper supervision performed their duties in the most
unsatisfactory manner.
We would like to point out that during the period under review various
Government Officers were ex-officio members of the Board but these
officers took little or no steps to influence the Board members nor to bring
forcibly to Government's notice the chaotic state of affairs.^^^
141
In 1981, a working group under the chairmanship of J.B. Yankey
noted in almost identical terms the dishonesty that permeated the
system.^^^ Special note should be taken of the comments on the
incompetence of the Dominica Banana Producers' Association:
For an industry of such dominant economic importance and
extensive scale of operations, it lacks the expected Management
team with strong technical base, tested managerial experience
and the level of stature to execute action promptly and
effectively, particularly as this requires competent and trusted
relationship with farmers, DBGA work force, other agriculture
field staff, agriculture service institutions, particularly WINBAN,
and Aid Donors
The exploitation of workers became difficult to check and was
downrightly criminal. Since the population was unable to negotiate the
degree of exploitation to which it was subjected, its only option was
emigration.
The importance of the banana associations in Dominica and Saint
Lucia cannot be said to apply in general to the rest of the Caribbean. In
Haiti, for example, whose main crop was coffee, there were no growers'
associations. However, as far as the peasants were concerned, the result
was the same. Ownership of the crop was not transferred on the basis of
market relations,^^ and the peasants did not know about savings and
capital.
It should also be added that the current situation in Dominica and Saint
Lucia is no longer what was observed at the beginning of the current decade.
However, the description we have presented covers nearly half a century of
history. It shows that the failure of the plantations is not that of the planters.
The planter is not an economic agent or a captain of industry. His
income comes from consecutive political victories.
142
Chapter 7
DISCOURSE AND DEVELOPMENT
1. Introduction
The history of a population's impact on the physical and social milieux in
which it lives reflects the size of this population, its rate of growth, its
differentiation into social groups and categories, and the set of spiritual and
material means that enable it to reproduce itself from generation to
generation. The daily activities of this population continually update this
history and define, on the basis of accumulated experiences, the options
open to it.
In a colonized environment, collective and even private activities are
carried out without the population necessarily being aware of its debt to a
history other than that of the colonizer. It creates and respects cultural norms
that are different and indigenous.
The pattern of progressive control over the conditions of existence of
the colonized populations is at one and the same time contrary to and
consistent with the history of the metropolitan countries. The population, in
response to colonial domination, develops its own survival strategies, and
occupies and administers institutional strongholds which it has erected
itself. In other words, there are autonomous aptitudes for taking collective
initiatives, which are developed without losing sight of the context in which
-and against which- they are exercised.
The emergence or rebirth of autonomous national entities hostile
to the colonial empire is an unforeseen and unavoidable consequence
of imperialist adventures. Nonetheless, the international solidarity
that was forged in the course of the struggle against colonialism
seems to have created the habit of paying greater attention to the
means which the great empires of the West employed to assert their
will, and of relegating to the background the creativity of the
oppressed nations.
143
It is rather difficult to orient official reflexion -that of the institutions
of State- in other directions, since it is not a case of mere neglect. A selective
blindness serves to benefit specific social categories and groups in the
colonial and post-colonial society.
In their courageous struggles against the colonizers, the sectors
responsible for mediating between the latter and the colonized did not
oppose the increasing control over the environment exerted by the
oppressed nation. They did, however, make certain general demands for
greater respect for their positions as the official representatives of these
same nations.
Since there are hardly any colonies today, there is little talk of
decolonization. This objective has been replaced by the pursuit -in principle
just as legitimate but much more vague- of development. The economic
dimensions of this new adventure are undoubtedly prioritized in such a way
as to avoid any question of compensating for the injustices perpetrated by
the colonizers.
A State which has itself been freed from the colonial yoke has the
responsibility for leading the less developed nations towards this goal, while
avoiding reputedly ideological claims. These claims, in turn, tend to focus
on the redressing of material wrongs committed against the colonized.
Whatever definition of the term development one chooses, it refers, in
one way or another, to the control and dominance of the physical and social
environment. It is therefore not easy to understand how these nation-States,
products of a two-fold history implicit in the word colonization, can take
control of their environment without rupture with the colonial Power, even
while completing its civilizing mission. The question may therefore be
rightly asked as to how the creativity of the colonized nations can be
relegated to the background while at the same time their human resources
are "prepared" for the task of development.
In considering the process of decolonization, one must begin with the
peculiar circumstances of the Caribbean in relation to the other regions of
the third world. In Africa, Latin America and Asia, Europe brought under
its sway nations that had already been formed. In the region it referred to as
the West Indies, however, it was the unconstrained plunder of resources that
ironically gave rise to the formation of nations. Caribbean civilization
therefore has characteristics which are not to be found in India, Benin or
Bolivia, for example.
To propose and insist on a specific methodology for the study of the
Caribbean requires the formulation of a long list of working hypotheses, the
development of which is nowhere near complete. It is proposed to approach
144
the study of these societies on the basis of the following premise: the
institutionalization of community solidarity develops within the framework
of metropolitan States whose principal objective is precisely to prevent such
development.
A fundamental contradiction exists then between the objectives of the
colonial State and the groups administering its affairs and, the popular will
expressed by the peoples of the Caribbean. The history of the region is none
other than the gradual resolution of this contradiction.
The relationship between culture and development generally embraces
the problems of the discourse on culture and development. Development
strategies are a reciprocal function of the verbalization of development
experiences. This verbalization, together with these experiences, are
primarily the discourses of the metropolitan and the Creole population.
Omissions in these discourses are not fortuitous, they are compensated
through a process of social change.
The Caribbean is not only pluri-lingual and pluri-cultural, the languages
and cultures found in the region are characterized by asymmetric relations
of domination, just as there are incontestable "links of consanguinity"
among them. It must first of all be noted that institutionalized participation
in historical developments and in development strategies is today still
undertaken in the dominant languages and cultures of the Caribbean, that is
to say, in the languages and cultures of the State.
The history of the dominant social categories and the elites who are
capable of influencing collective projects must be viewed as a continuation
of the imperial histories. The history of the majority of the populations
concerned -and of their elites of artists, priests, healers, village heads, and
so forth- constitutes precisely the reverse side of the coin, that is to say, a
history and a historiography which were appropriated by the metropolis and
its representatives.
Finally, to complicate matters further, over and beyond the differences
between social categories, virtually the entire population -though to
different degrees and with the exception of Suriname and Haiti-carries both
dominant and dominated cultures and languages. Thus, unlike discourses
on development, which are generally very logical and coherent, social
groups elaborate concrete strategies of survival based on local conditions.
Any definition of the direction in which the life-style of a population
is evolving is necessarily tentative and arbitrary. Contrarily, an
examination of the bases of its social cohesion reveals elements that
explain this variety of survival strategies and reinforce the social contract
that binds the various actors.
145
2. Culture and intervention
I propose to use three texts from two of the greatest Caribbean intellectuals
to define the duality that is felt to exist there. These texts, which date from
the late 1920s and the 1950s, are taken from the writings of Jean Price-Mars
and Eric Williams.
The texts have been selected in order to identify the conditions under
which an intervention in the social reality of the Caribbean is capable of
leading to a solution of a duality operating for several decades now.
In a paper entitled "Le leader politique consideré comme un homme de
culture", Eric Williams points out that the foundation of Greek democracy
was:
the recognition of the political leader as a man of culture -not an
abstract culture, not an intellectual refinement, but the culture of an
entire people, of an entire city, of which he was the
representative. '
Williams, in 1959, denied the existence of an indigenous Caribbean
culture. The problem in the West Indies, in his view, is that the
pre-Columbian culture had been destroyed; apart from an occasional odd
survival, the African culture brought by the enslaved has left few traces. He
states quite unambiguously:
The way of life in the West Indies, the scale of values, are European
or American -at all levels. ^^
Thus, according to the author, one of the principal tasks of the political
leader is in a sense to create the national culture. He defended "all
manifestations of culture which, while not indigenous, are based on an
adaptation of European and American heritages", and sought consciously
to integrate "the scattered threads of the culture that constitute the West
Indies -the European, African, Indian, Chinese and Syrian".^^^
Pluralism and indigenization (or creolization) go hand in hand. Under
the colonial leadership of the West, the European segment of the population
received preferential treatment. In a more just (post-colonial) system,
opportunities would be more equitably distributed:
The struggle for national culture today is not only a part of the
struggle for political independence but also the struggle for the
establishment of a new social order.^^
The absence of a native language in the Caribbean constitutes, again
according to Williams, a major obstacle to decolonization; in his vision as
a statesman, decolonization culminates in genuine integration, "a
confederation of Caribbean territories, tied to each other at the cultural,
146
economic, trade, and even political level". That constitutes, in his view "the
greatest form of nationalism".^®^
Price-Mars wrote his famous hook, Ainsiparla Voncle}''^ during the
occupation of Haiti by the United States. Unlike Williams, he believed that
a Haitian culture existed, independently of its capacity to prevail over the
social milieu. The problem, in his view, was how to increase its visibility.
This concern is clearly expressed in the first sentences of his work:
We have long cherished the hope of making the people of Haiti
more aware of the true worth of their folklore.^^^
1 Ty
Unlike Williams' view
the problem of language does not arise, and
less still the problem of a relative value of this language. Since Price-Mars
does not have the same vision of the Trinidadian statesman with regard to
Caribbean integration, he has fewer variables to consider and may therefore
be more categorical.
In any case there will be no difficulty in agreeing that in its present
form our Creole is a collective creation that has developed out of
the need which masters and slaves had in former times to
communicate their thoughts. (...) For the moment, it is the only
instrument which our masses and we ourselves can use to express
our mutual thoughts. (...) Whatever we call it -idiom, dialect,
patois- its social role is an inescapable reality. It is thanks to Creole
that our oral traditions exist, are carried on and are transformed, and
it is through it that we may aspire one day to bridge the gap that
makes of us and of the people two entities that are apparently
distinct and often antagonistic.^^^
In Haiti no cultural pluralism exists that is worthy of Price-Mars'
attention. He observes a duality which must be resolved.
Twenty years later (1984), Price-Mars addressed the problem of the
political structure of society and was assailed by the same doubts as
Williams. He examined the bases of authoritarianism in Haiti and identified
the question of collective thought as the touchstone of national cohesion
and development. He compared the late nineteenth century Haitian society
with the society in 1948 in these terms:
So while the Haitian society does exist, it does so at a certain level
of infantilism which prevents it from manifesting its political
existence. Is the American description of the Haitian State as "an
inarticulate people" not therefore more correct? Inarticulate
people is a term as comprehensible as it is untranslatable literally,
at least in ray view; raoreover, it means a people devoid of the
capacity to express their thoughts or articulate and realize their
147
intentions, and who are therefore reduced to being no more than a
"confused amalgam of individuals" sluggish in their ignorance, a
flock of sheep ready to heed the beckoning of any shepherd,
provided he be clever enough to assert himself.
This then was the situation in 1870-1880 which, moreover, has not
changed much since...
The works of Price-Mars and of Williams contain the central theses around
which the ideas contained in this study are organized. The basic argument, which
is taken from Price-Mars, is that culture is essentially awareness. It is knowledge,
all types of knowledge -political, scientific, technolc^cal, religious, artistic,
metaphorical, symbolic, etc. It is the wisdom of the people.
This definition will be elaborated upon in the next chapter; it should be
noted for the moment that, unlike the position of Price-Mars, Eric Williams
conceives of culture as a set of life styles the manifestation of which is
closely linked to a new social order.
The second proposition is that in a democratic government the political
man is a man of culture, of the culture of the governed. We will establish the
origin of the distance between governments and the governed.
There are three elements in the equation of social development or of
interventions in social exchanges in the Caribbean:
i) the existence of a culture that permits the encounter between a
leader and his people (Williams);
ii) the existence of a language (a rallying point for the nationalist
movement in each territory (Williams) enabling the gap between
the elite and the masses to be bridged (Price-Mars) and ensuring
a greater solidarity among the nationalist forces (Williams); and
iii) awareness (or science) of the value of this culture and of this
language (Price-Mars).
On the first point, the advantages of the definitions of culture that are
compatible with the thinking of Price-Mars are undeniable. There exist as
many cultures as there are Caribbean countries and these cultures are
a) different from those of the colonizer or colonizers; b) different from
those of the native societies of the colonized; and c) different from a
mixture of the contributions of the colonizers and the colonized.
As regards the second point, it must be remembered that within each
country in the region there exists, apart from the official language, a
common language which ensures communication between the various
social groups. It is submitted that the task of the intellectual elite is to
instrumentalize these national languages for the management of public
affairs.
148
This problem does not arise in those territories that were formerly and
partially used as colonies of settlement. Such territories use the language of
the former metropolis. An empirical study of the points of rupture observed
in the social dialogue of these countries would reveal those aspects that are
blurred by bilingualism. This effort would also highlight the non-cultural
mechanisms that hinder a greater social cohesion.
Consideration of the process of decolonization or of development,
added to the problem of the value of national cultures and languages, allows
a distinction to be drawn between culture and the "discourse" which it
encompasses. The formulas proposed by the local culture for solutions to
the challenges inherent in the milieu are what we refer to as the national
"discourse" or expression.
The value of a culture or of a language is determined by its usefulness
in surmounting the obstacles that must be faced by its creators. The
perception of this value varies according to whether one belongs to a
dominant or subordinate group in the society.
If an individual speaks only the vernacular and uses only the subordinate
institutions for his survival, he has no choice with regard to the ways and
means of controlling his milieu. When a person is caught between the
national language and culture on one hand and those of the colonizers on
the other, the manipulation of the dominated culture can even require the
conscious negation of its value.
In both cases, it is necessary to determine the conditions under which
the value of the autochthonous creations is affirmed and to promote the
project of national society which they encompass.
Once the choice is made in favour of endogenous development, the
course of scientific research -of knowledge or awareness of the value of
national cultures and languages- is clear. Its aim is the optimal utilization
of the instruments of social action that are controlled by the populations
concerned, and by them alone.
Progress is then made towards the interpenetration of politics and culture,
the culmination of the processes of democratization, according to Eric Williams.
A full appreciation -awareness and knowledge- of the national culture and its
value is the only instrument that is essential to social development.
3. Fragments of the metropolises
In order to understand the obstacles to an "interpenetration of politics and
culture" in the Caribbean, it isfirstnecessary -at theriskof repeating certain
149
commonly accepted ideas- to distinguish between two histories which have
been superimposed upon the region -and in every colonized country: that
of the political structure or the State's history, on the one hand, and that of
the culture or the nation's history, on the other.
The first concept to which attention must be drawn is that of national
territory, which in the mostly insular societies of the Caribbean seems to
^ present no difficulty. In the eyes of the sociologist, a territory is not a place
\where certain relationships are entertained, but rather a place which is
created by these relationships. It is the sum total of the human relations that
define the space, and not the reverse.
Thus, when a foreign army and the institutions which accompany it take
over a territory, this appropriation implies a redefinition of the occupied
territory and its components as well as a subversion of its historiography.
The new definition then varies according to the social categories and groups
that dominate the colonizing nations. In the case of the Caribbean, an
overseas territory is established which can exist only in the geography of
the metropolis.
What is actually being observed however, is an expansion of the
conquering nation's territory, which, added to that of the other colonial
empires, gradually encompasses the entire planet. The habitat of the
conquered nation or nations is taken to be a differentiated sub-unit of the
geography of the metropolises. New triieanings, belonging to external
structures of thought, are imposed on this hfibitat and on its constituent parts.
The conclusion may already be drawn of an overlapping in the collective
thought of the conquered nations of two systems of definitions, deriving
from two systems of social relations.
During the past five centuries, armies and other corporate bodies of
colonization interposed themselves between the oppressed nation and its
physical and social environment, preventing it from freely manifesting its
internal differentiation -and thus its particular history- in the political
sphere. These forces introduced it to a new totality and converted it -or so
they believed- into a fragment of that totality, homogeneous in its necessary
ignorance and savagery.
The nation, whose social intercourse defined a space that was then
seized by the colonizer, was thus transformed into "a people deprived of the
capacity to express their thoughts or to articulate and realize their will".
Such a nation lost its "power of expression", and in the worst cases was
physically liquidated for the benefit of a conquering nation and, more
specifically, for the benefit of the dominant categories and groups in
that nation.
150
A nation reproduces itself due to the institutions it maintains and which
transmit to its members a sense of belonging, identity and loyalty. One
understands by "power of expression" or discourse of a nation, the
expression of its future as reflected in the institutions which denote its
specificity.
The power of expression or discourse of a nation interprets the
environment and gives to it meaning and shape which correspond to that
society's need for cohesion. The power of expression or discourse of a
nation is thus a project of continuity, of the future as the sequel to and
consequence of a common past.
The concept of the power of expression or discourse of a nation is more
constricted than that of culture. The former seeks to isolate this projection
to the future, as shaped by the management of the collective memory. In
other words, it is the prism of culture continually transforming itself into
styles of living.
The distinction between power of expression and culture shows that
a conquered nation can lose its power of expression, and can be deprived
of the "capacity to express its thought", without necessarily losing its
culture. To be deprived of its power of expression means not to have the
capacity to translate, in an autonomous and coherent manner, its thinking
and its judgements into styles of living. This inability to fashion a
socio-cultural organization to the will of the national collectivity at no
time affects the totality of criteria and standards that comprise the culture
of this collectivity.
It may then be stated that conquering nations appropriate the territory
occupied by the conquered nation as well as its spirit, that is to say, the
relations between the colonized and their environment. In the colonies of
exploitation, it is first of all this relationship between the nation and the
environment which revolutions attempt to restore. It was this objective
which the Haitian revolution of 1804 formulated in terms of "Liberty
or Death!".
By appropriating overseas territories, conquering nations initiate the
use on a worldwide basis of the social categories typical of their own forms
of organization. Abridge is established between entities as dissimilar as two
national societies may be, and the oppressed nation becomes, in its totality,
the most oppressed social category in the colonial empire.
"The confused amalgam of individuals" which occupies the new
geography is a concrete achievement of the colonizers. This "confused
amalgam" is the result of an imposed system of individualization and
its cleavages.
151
Only one evolutionary direction is open to the colonized at the
culmination of which one finds either New England -the colonized people
having been exterminated- ox New Spain -the survivors being muzzled by
oppression in one form or another.
In the "New Englands", a national way of thinking disappears. In the
"New Spains", the channels for expression of this thought -the power of
expression of the nation- are blocked once and for all. The colonized
person becomes the opposite of the metropolitan one: an emptiness
which has to be filled. His distinctive world is now perceived as a cahotic
one in need of reorganization; an organized society as a mass of
indigenous people to be integrated into "national life". In a number of
Latin American countries these policies are openly referred to as policies
of "castilianization".
The absence or virtual absence of autochthonous populations in the
Caribbean creates no difference between these countries and those of Latin
America, Africa or Asia with regard to cleavages between the colonized
and their colonizers. This absence reflects, however, the Caribbean
experience of colonization and how this experience differs from those of
other colonized countries. Above all, it permits the discourse of the Creoles
on decolonization to be placed in its proper perspective.
The black people transplanted to the Caribbean and elsewhere in the
America are moulded into conquered nations. The question is to determine
what becomes of conquered nations within the framework of the kind of
development projected by the metropolitan Powers, and how, on the basis
of their forced insertion into the oppressed social categories, they organize
themselves into social groups responsible for their own liberation.
As is well known, the colonial empires did not divide up the world by
friendly agreement, and the Powers of the moment have experienced
varying fortunes. The fragments of metropolitan societies, responsible for
administering and exploiting the colonies, suffer the consequences of these
rivalries.
Pressured by their dominant groups, these fragments emancipated
themselves and founded new so-called independent "nations". The
struggles of colonial America for independence required a certain degree
of mobilization of various social groups, but not all mobilized groups
became full fledged citizens of the new states. One must understand the
mechanisms that excluded the population from decision-making
systems.^^^
The independence of the Caribbean territories, like those of the
countries on the continent, were generally linked to a reformulation of the
152
relations between the metropolises. In the Caribbean, the protagonists of the
confrontation that led to this juncture were the masses of the population (the
"indigenous people"); these confrontations included the wars of
independence of Haiti or Cuba, as well as the workers' revolts in the
Commonwealth Caribbean. Unlike Latin America, the rupture between the
Creoles and the metropolitan groups was not the main factor leading to
national independence.
This second element marks a difference between the two regions. In the
first place, the exclusion of the majority of "citizens" from the
decision-making systems takes place in a different manner than in Latin
America. The marginalization of the dominated groups is the result of social
mechanisms that more closely reflect colonialism. In Latin America, which
in large measure, was a settlement colony, note must be taken of efforts to
promote national integration.
Consequently, the oppressed peoples of the Caribbean developed and
maintained a form of cultural cohesion that marks a clear and visible
distance between the colonial power of expression and the national
discourse. Throughout their history the indigenous peoples of Latin
America have failed to present a common front distinct from that of the
Creoles.
As a result of this form of participation of the "indigenous" people in
the nation-building process, independence as a political objective has had
much more importance in Latin America than in the Caribbean.^^^ For the
Creoles of Latin America, independence from the metropolis is an objective
in itself.
The manipulation of nationalist ideologies enabled Latin America to
mobilize, in massive social movements, the most antagonistic social
categories. The onus for the Creole's exploitation of the indigenous people
fell on the metropolitan who were then expelled by the independence
movements. The victories of the creóles over the metropolitan were
transformed at the ideological level into exploits of the mestizos, i.e., the
union of the Creoles and the indigenous people. The term Creole itself
disappeared after independence and was replaced by mestizo.
In the Caribbean, the borderiine between the "Creoles" and the
"indigenous people" -to use the Latin American terms- was of another type.
Independence from the metropolis became, in the best of cases, a weapon
in the pursuit of common objectives that transcended the cleavages that
separated the colonial social categories.
A Caribbean nation does not express itself through the dominant social
categories. The concept of "mulatto" as it is understood in the Caribbean
bears no relation to the Latin American term mestizo. This is explained by
the fact that the European colonies of the Caribbean were not settlement
colonies as they were in Latin America. The racial connotations of the
concepts of Creole, indigenous, mulatto and mestizo, are fluid and almost
non-existent in the Caribbean.
In this region, the major linguistic divisions reflect the borderlines
between cultural structures. These borderlines correspond to a large extent
to the cleavages between the colonial social categories. But the cultural
divisions and the normative social cleavages do not necessarily separate
groupings of individuals. The values of independence are expressed in the
oppressed cultural structure, which is maintained by groups of individuals
who could not possibly be assigned to a single social category. This subject
will be dealt with in the next chapter.
La Pátria del Criollo, in Latin America as in the Caribbean, differs from
the colony to the extent that it is situated between the metropolis and the
dominated groups. Its trajectory implies both a conflict and a constant dialogue
with the former metropolises. In fact it is this effort which characterizes it as a
special type of State that should be called an emancipated State.
The need for legitimization of the emancipated State forces it to
distinguish between the objectives of its own policies and those of the
metropolis. The emancipated State achieves its objective and exhausts its
chances of progress to the extent that it manages to effectively substitute
economic development for decolonization, as the social objective of the
"new" national collectivity. This permits it to pursue the colonial objective
of destruction of the conquered people under the apparently less
objectionable guise of their acculturation or integration into the great
national family.
The States that were created as a result of the dismemberment of the
colonial empires differed from the colonialist entities in two important
respects: therigidityof their borders and the nature of their social categories.
It is rarely noted that they were in fact the only States to be circumscribed
within a defined territory. The metropolises not only possessed so-called
overseas territories -and this is still the case today- but their political
activities continue to be characterized by their worldwide scope as they were
during the best years of the previous centuries.
Moreover, a metropolis was a national entity in which different social
categories and groups were gradually established. Workers and employers
came from the third estate and were pitted against the nobility and the clergy.
It is therefore hardly surprising that after several centuries they should share
similar frames of reference and prospects for the future.
54
The dominant classes and groups from the metropolises attended to the
needs of the State and, in order to do so, carefully promoted the national
cohesiveness from which they emerged. An emancipated State was, on the
contrary, an entity comprised of social classes and groups that emerged from
colonization, striving constantly towards the formation of a united nation.
In these contexts, the emancipated State imposed various sacrifices on
the dominated classes and groups in order to achieve the objectives of
economic development. Restrictions on social negotiation, that is to say, a
deceleration of the nation-building process, became the cost required of the
colonized people for progressing toward material well-being.
It may be concluded that the emancipated State was the prisoner of a
territory bequeathed by colonialism and prisoner of a future contained in
the project of the former metropolises. The "national" territory remained a
fragment of the metropolitan territory, and the project or discourse of the
emancipated State was a reflection of the future proposed by the
metropolises to the planet as a whole.
Unfortunately, as time passed, the promises of future "development" were
repeated with dull monotony. The "Creole" or "mestizo" nation and its
emancipated State apparently lost their raison d'étre to the extent that they lost
their capacity to control their environment themselves. It became increasingly
difficult to perceive the borders of the national territory and to preserve the
State's ability to define a project for the future, even in the short term.
Increasingly, "national" economies and emancipated governments failed to
escape the limitations of a period and space of intervention defined exclusively
in terms of metropolitan projects. The emancipated State was confronted with
increasing difficulties in distinguishing itself from the type of colonial State from
which it emerged and in operationalizing its formal independence.
In order to rectify this rather uncomfortable situation, the former
colonies advanced on two fronts. On the one hand, regional integration
projects and the movement of non-aligned countries seeking to establish a
new international order were created. Mention must also be made of the
establishment of new alliances of social groups that sought to redefine the
State and the nation. It is in this second context that the problem arises of
the relationship between culture and social development, and the specific
characteristics of the Caribbean are reaffirmed.
4. Social structure and mobility
The ultimate purpose of public life in the colonies, under a system of slave
plantations, is to ensure the maximum possible exploitation of the colonized
155
people. This untrammelled exploitation tends to reduce to a strict minimum
the spaces necessary to the survival of the colonized people and affects even
aspects of their private lives.
The colonized person has norightto the fruits of his labour. If possible,
even the vital minimum necessary for his biological reproduction is taken
away from him. The settler forbids him access to metropolitan forms of
public and private life or from recreating his own traditional forms of life.
In the Caribbean, this tendency is pushed to its ultimate consequences,
the destruction of the conquered nations being undertaken in an
environment different from that in which those individuals that escaped
death have to live.
The African diaspora does not constitute the migration of tribal units
that can count on a minimum of institutionalized relations. It is characterized
rather by the transplantation of isolated individuals. The colonial system
ensured that these individuals were deprived from all possibility of realizing
the least part of their individual project of life, and more so of their collective
project of society.
This ruthless exploitation decimated groups which survive the Atlantic
crossing and imposes on them new forms of individuation. It also tends,
however, precisely because of its rigorous nature, to create the conditions
necessary for the birth of new national entities.
The conqueror, by pursuing his own objectives, unwittingly creates a
space in which family and community structures are formalized, and
consequently new cultural structures are instituted. The emergence of
endogenous solutions contained in these new forms of social life is one of
the paradoxical and ironical consequences of exploitation.
Colonial greed engenders contradictions which are ultimately
expressed in terras of "marginal" social cohesion and cultural creation, in
other words, in term of a consensus situated outside of the control of
colonialism. The efforts of the colonizer to fill the void which he creates
and to reorganize this disorder by moulding "the confused amalgam of
individuals" to conform to norms of metropolitan logic, produce another
nation which resents its influence.
On the surface, these autonomous forms of perceiving, assessing and
reorganizing the environment, based of course on the vestiges of cultures
that existed prior to the conquest (the disparate threads mentioned by Eric
Williams), pose no threat to the colonial system. On the contrary, they
contribute to the reproduction of that system. They enable the colonized
people to survive despite the insane nature of their situation and to also
experience social solidarity in the face of dehumanizing oppression.
156
Provision grounds are an example of this type of social organization, which
is consistent with the system of colonial exploitation and constitutes a refuge
for a creativity that opposes this exploitation.
The obstinate efforts of the exploited people to reorganize themselves
into new nations around cultures which are themselves new, beconie the
object of harsh criticisms and systematic denigration. In the best of Oases,
the colonizing nation and its agents arrogantly ridicule and trivializ^ the
modest attempts of the colonized people to liberate themselves.
The oppressed cultures lack institutions specialized in the production
and transmission of knowledge. Operating, as they do in a colonial system,
they have no access to the spheres of politics.
The colonized people do not have the institutional resources required
to undertake, within the colonial system itself, a collective struggle to
safeguard their particular interests. TTiey remain powerless in the face of an
imposed categorization and resulting discrimination, leaving them unable
to defend themselves within the colonial State. It is the spectacle of this
powerlessness that becomes the stepping stone for the achievement of
higher objectives.
In this light, social struggle and conflicts between human groups
belonging to the principal categories of the colonial societies are defined as
struggle and conflicts of national liberation, and the encompass the
negotiation of cultural interests. This characteristic of social conflict is
reinforced when the colony loses its economic assets and becomes a mere
outpost in global geopolitical strategy.
For political independence to be acceptable to the colonies of the
Caribbean, it must be accompanied by the establishment of a viablae
productive system by those responsible for the economic debacle -the
colonizers-. In the absence of such a system, it might be just as well to
receive the subsidies that would normally be paid for the use of a strategic
military outpost.
The conjugation of genuinely economic conflicts arising around the
distribution of surplus production, and of cultural conflicts related to the
perception and organization of groups of reference, creates a complexity
which is perhaps not peculiar to the Caribbean, but which assumes there an
importance vital to an understanding of its networks of social relationships
and their dynamics.
To distinguish between social categories and groups, one places on one
side the distribution of the inhabitants along the normative partitions
contemplated in the model of the colonial society, and on the other, their
distribution into concrete and autonomous cells of interpersonal relations.
I-??
In the first case, the partitions are simple. Individuals are assigned to
specific categories on the basis of a certain number of criteria determined
by the metropolis. In the second case, the networks of interpersonal relations
are a result of the performance of the individuals themselves. In theory,
there is no limit to their multiplication and their possibilities of controlling
their environment.
In the extreme situation of oppression represented by plantation society,
the formation of certain groups tends to compensate for the shortcomings
of the current system of social categorization and its omissions. Such groups
respond to a rationale that differs from the dominant system. The evolution
of this rationale, i.e., the history of these groups, gives rise to a tradition that
serves as protection against the misdeeds of the dominant system, thanks to
knowledge and awareness of the particularities of this system.
Consequently, even though the rigours of colonial exploitation give
rise to the establishment of new forms of social life, it does not follow
that the innovators are to be found on the margin of the dominant social
organization and of its basic principles. The marginality that is the
product of a colonial system of this type affects not individuals or groups
of individuals but rather such structures as they might put into place in
their survival strategies.
For example, the fact that Paul, who belongs to the social category of
slaves or freedmen, does not have the resources required to establish a
European-type nuclear family does not make him a marginal person. It
converts the type of family institution that Paul invents into a marginal
institution, which is different.
Moreover, if slaves and freedmen constitute the largest social group,
the family institution which they produce is not, strictly speaking, marginal.
It is referred to rather as of lesser social standing, an undervalued institution.
Paul and his family are familiar with the norms and principles of the
dominant or official institution, but they do not organize themselves in
accordance with them. They are thus guided by two types of rationale or by
two cultural systems, and they participate in two types of civil societies. It
may be noted that Paul may have the opportunity to operate both within the
European civil society and within the local civil society.
This is also true of the groups of individuals that belong to the dominant
social categories. From the time the plantation becomes a deadweight which
must be kept afloat by the metropolis through the adoption of protectionist
measures, several large landowners begin to witness the degradation of the
material and spiritual resources that normally permit them to organize their
lives along the same lines as the dominant Western models. There may be
158
no solution other than joining forces with the oppressed culture and
implementing the solutions which that culture dictates.
It follows that the most diverse groups of individuals share traditions
of a local or foreign origin. We shall return to this subject in the following
chapter. This eventuality poses the problem of the impact on the cultural
dynamics of social mobility of certain oppressed groups, to which the rest
of this chapter will be devoted.
These mobile groups usually exhibit a disdain for the oppressed culture
which must be situated in its proper context. Care must be taken not to
mistake ignorance of the local cultural heritage for a lack of knowledge or
information on the subject of national cultures.
In principle the official culture and the "imperial language" serve
mainly to perpetuate the world of colonialism. The oppressed culture and
the national language remain the principal -though not exclusive-preserve
of endogenous creative activity.
In order to properly understand the importance of this phenomenon,
account must be taken of the colonialist attitude towards the population. The
first social project of the metropolis provides for the reproduction of the
population, especially through the introduction of new waves of immigrant
workers. The organization of the private life of a worker -slave or
freedman- is of no interest to the public authorities who delegate this role
to the slave owners and employers.
For the metropolis, a transfer of resources obtained from economic
activity for the maintenance of a worker's family life makes no sense. We
have seen that the worker has access only to marginal resources not needed
for economic development.
The second social project is consolidated as the plantation loses its
economic advantages. For the metropolis, these territories then become
places to be administered without having to be developed. In order to
administer a territory without developing it, it is necessary to have the
continual presence of an external armed force and a bureaucracy capable of
becoming integrated into that of the imperial power.
We have seen that during the period following the emancipation of the
slaves, administrative measures were taken to prevent any negotiated
control of the environment. These include the destruction of the market
economy by imposing obstacles on the bargaining power of workers, by
granting monopolistic concessions and promoting labour emigration or
depopulation.
The majority of countries in the region are at least bilingual. More
exactly, they experience the diglossia described in chapter 5.
159
Activities conducted in Creole generally include those that relate to
private or community life and to manual work. Official languages are used
in public life, particularly in politics, law, public administration, education,
European religions, etc.
Since both the public and private lives of oppressed people are
organized on the basis of different cultural norms and the former tends to
dominate the latter, diglossia expresses a differentiated use of the two
cultures. In the Caribbean, the reproduction of the social system and those
who comprise it, is provided for in the management of the plantation society.
A cumulative improvement of living conditions is an exclusive function of
the dominance of the official language and culture. The oppressed cultures
and languages are reserved for survival strategies.
The individual social mobility of the freedmen therefore involves, in
either of the two possible metropolitan social projects, a new area of
employment, preferably unrelated to agriculture and rural life. Since the
colonial State offers no assistance for the promotion of the agricultural
worker, private life is organized in such a manner as to ensure the
transmission of the knowledge required for this social mobility.
Returning to the first example, if the enslaved or freedman Paul wishes
to improve his condition, he can take a series of steps that would enable him
to rise to higher positions. If he wishes to bequeath to his family the progress
he has made, he will transfer in his private life the knowledge acquired
during the process of his social ascent.
The home of the newly freed person then becomes a sort of
professional school. The "imperial" language, the language of public
administration, tends to become the language spoken within his family.
After one or two generations, it will become the mother tongue of his
descendants.
Similarly, the proper functioning of socially mobile oppressed groups
gradually requires forms of organization and values that are normally part
of private life in the metropolis. The dominant culture is presented as a
paradigm, and all local products are looked down upon.^^^
This therefore gives rise to the emergence of generations with an
effectively limited vision of Caribbean culture, able to get by without the
forms of community solidarity which define this culture. These generations
constitute the frontier of the colonial civil society.
The establishment in towns of freedmen and socially mobile persons
marks the culmination of their "class transfer". A number of urban
institutions have responsibility for consolidating the progress, to avoid the
danger of downward social mobility.
160
But the summit of a social pyramid is always narrow, and the
dominant civilian society cannot accommodate all the aspirants. One
should not therefore exaggerate the harm caused by the limited visibility
of the local culture. A set of very complex phenomena operates in
this milieu.
First, the dominant sectors of the population do not constitute a set of
groups capable of independently pursuing their own projects of
development. They are employees of the metropolis, which in keeping with
its practices of racial discrimination grants undisguised preference to the
béké, mulatto, and French Creole minorities.
Next, these dominant groups, even when they are successful, must
safeguard their role as intermediaries by maintaining contact with manual
workers under the yoke of colonialism or recently liberated from it. Finally,
they soon learn from their comings and goings in the metropolis that they
are second class citizens obliged to have recourse to direct forms of national
solidarity.
The existence of Creole languages, as the lingua franca both before
and after independence, confers a high degree of effectiveness on the
oppressed cultures and renders impossible a total cleavage between the
social groups belonging to opposing categories. Children and youth in
the Caribbean amuse themselves only in the Creole language, which also
reflects the fundamental ambiguity of the principal institution of cultural
domination:
The analysis of the "terrorist" role of French in schools, writes L.F.
Prudent, would be incomplete if we were to ignore the reverse side
of the coin: school is also the place where a large part of
middle-class urban groups discover and learn Creole.^
Note must therefore be taken of the fact that even in the case of a socially
mobile minority for whom tl/e official language becomes the mother tongue,
the child undergoes an intensive process of learning the vernacular from the
time that he begins to extend his circle of interpersonal relations and to move
about independently within the community. ^^^ Empirical studies will
have to be undertaken to determine what the vernacular, as employed by
groups that have detached themselves from the masses, transmits of the
local culture.
In short, social pressures militate against the establishment of
distance between those from the dominant or official cultures and
those from the oppressed cultures. No physical or social barrier
prevents interpersonal relations between individuals and groups
living in these cultures.
161
Apart from the cases of Haiti and Suriname, the profile of the two
cultural systems is high and knowledge of them quite extensive. It is perhaps
this dual vision that feeds the theories of cultural miscegenation, and it must
be admitted that the proposed dualism is essentially a methodological
artifice.
It is necessary to determine empirically the image of the dominant
society that is formulated in the oppressed culture and inversely, the image
of the oppressed society as seen by the European sector of the Caribbean
population. Each cultural system has its own privileged sphere of
application, one public life and the other private life. Each system has its
own special transmitters: the first, the dominant groups and the second, the
exploited.
Today, the distance between the two poles of the Caribbean societies
seems to be narrowing. The next chapter will examine how the dominant
groups are forced to seek out or to accept dialogue with the subordinate
groups.
The main point is that upward social mobility and more particularly,
the passage to the sphere of public administration -or simply the aspiration
towards such passage- is accompanied by an irrational disdain for the
culture and life styles of the oppressed. TTiis disdain is all the more marked
as this culture and its life styles become integrated into the daily life of each
person.
5. Civil societies
In studying the social relationships peculiar to the Caribbean, it must be
remembered that one of the two civil societies -on account of the colonial
system itself- does not express itself in terms of political institutions and
that the State, by its very colonialist nature, has no support in the colonized
civil society.
The main social categories that succeed each other in the region are
imposed from outside, as are the institutions and norms that seek to preserve
the kind of order on which they are based. They do not originate in the
commerce between individuals and groups in the region, but from the
"discourse" of the metropolises, from their societal projects.
Settlers in the colony are distributed in one way or another according
to the cleavages that separate the principal categories. In the practical
conduct of their day to day life, groups are established that seek to resolve
the different problems faced by the population. All innovation, all creativity,
all social dynamism is the result of the activities of these human groups.
162
The disconnection of the two milieux of plantation and
counter-plantation creates, for the latter, a constant problem of the novelty
of the dominant milieu or European sector. Dominated human groups are
always novices since norms may exist of which they are unaware, refelcting
shifts by the European sector towards unpredictable horizons.
Effectiveness in protecting oneself from the dominant culture does not
result from familiarity with a set of norms of conduct, customs, traditions
and values of the West, but rather from a proper appreciation of the
standards and criteria of judgement of the dominant society. The use of
certain definitions of culture which would require encyclopedic knowledge
of the social actors may make it impossible to understand how people who
are ignorant in this regard succeed in foiling the clever strategies of the
West.
The distance between the plantation and the counter-plantation is a
logical one. It explains a) the vital role of the Creoles in bridging the two
systems and b) the fact that the subordinate groups seek to solve their
problems without the intervention of the dominant system.
For the oppressed, the plantation is an enemy system which they must
neutralize or which they must at least sidestep. The fundamental attitude is
the same, whether it is a case of the great destruction of the plantation society
in Santo Domingo in 1803, or of the clandestine resistance in the plantation
islands.
The local Caribbean culture is to the dominant culture what the
counter-plantation is to the plantation. No Caribbean culture can exist
without a prior culture of European origin, since it developed in response
to the latter and in conflict with its postulates. The entire problem consists
in identifying the terrain on which this conflict, which takes the place of
reciprocal relations, will be played out.
The distribution of the population of the Caribbean into social
categories reflects the presence of Europe in the region, or more exactly,
the form of this presence. The principal categories divide individuals into
exploiters and exploited (plantation owners and slaves, land owners and
freedmen, employers and workers) and governors and governed.
The main categories in the region are distinguished from those to be
observed in Europe in that they do not emerge from the evolution of the
social relations in the region. They are essentially Creole and continually
seek to adapt or acclimate themselves to a European discourse.
Consequently, the norms of conduct which govern the behaviour of
such individuals do not correspond to those of their metropolitan
counterparts -where such counterparts in fact exist. Their obligations, rights
163
and privileges derive from the asymmetrical relation between metropolis
and colony.
The same policeman will have two completely different attitudes
towards the population depending on whether he is in France or in
Guadeloupe. It would be pointless to compare the attitude of a British prime
minister towards his electorate with that of a governor of the colony
towards the "natives". At the same time, the autonomous distribution of
individuals into groups and voluntary associations, and their respective
conduct, gives rise to another history, one which is totally imprisoned
within that of Europe.
One must therefore keep separate the several systems of social relations:
1. A distinction between a) the history of Europe and that of its social
categories, b) the history of European projects, which gives rise to
the social categories of the Caribbean, and c) the history of the local
responses to these projects. There exists a notable difference and a
divergence between the social categories and the human groups on
both sides of the ocean;
2. The divergence between European-style civil society, which
includes groups of individuals organized according to the rationale
of the European project, and the civil society of the Caribbean, which
corresponds to the rationale of the counter-plantation;
3. The regional and international repercussions of the two types of civil
societies as well as the spaces for the promotion and improvement
of their positions which are the further consequences of these
regional and subsequently international repercussions;
4. The divergence between the regionalization of the social categories
that perpetuates the balkanization of the Caribbean and the
regionalization of groups of individuals which is heading gradually
towards the formation of a Caribbean nation (the wider nationalism
imagined by Williams).
"Within these four systems, a whole range of social negotiations takes
place, as well as the accumulation of experiences and hence specific
knowledge.
The first system is a spillover from European history. A relationship is
established between the metropolis and the so-called overseas territories.
This relationship has its own dynamics. The metropolitan project is
implemented by the creation of certain primary social categories which
benefit from the support of a set of government institutions. The population
reacts to the normative principles dictated by the metropolis, and human
groups with diverse characteristics organize themselves.
164
At a second level, the networks of interpersonal relations of the
dominant and dominated groups revolve around two different types of civil
society. On the one hand, the population responds to acts carried out by the
colonial governments within the framework of the principles of the colony,
and a whole process of negotiation is initiated which, in the long run, leads
both to the formation of trade unions and of producers' associations. This
is the dominant or Creole civil society.
Moreover, another civil society makes up for the omissions of the
colonial system and for its shortcomings. This civil society consists mainly
of groups of individuals belonging to the subordinate categories whose
needs are of no interest to the dominant system. It is within this framework
that there is a gradual institutionalization of relations of family, of mutual
aid organizations, religions, a definition of land ownership, a practice of the
rights of succession, i.e., an entire system of daily life that escapes the
rationale of the colonial system.
These are the core institutions created by the local population and which
are referred to in the reports of the colonial administrations as obstacles to
development (metropolitan societal projects). The oppressed defend
themselves within the framework of the Creole or official civil society as
well as outside of it.
At a third level of observation, the Caribbean is balkanized, and a
distinction can be drawn between the English, French, Spanish or Dutch
groups of colonies or former colonies. Each group has its traditions and its
customs. The dominant groups develop extra-territorial attachments within
the framework of this regionalization imposed from abroad. The responses
to the metropolitan initiatives sometimes adopt this "regional" approach and
have proven to be quite effective.
It should however be noted that this space is open only to the official
or Creole civil society and to its government. One may for example conceive
of a federation of trade unions of the English-speaking Caribbean. To
propose, however, the organization of a federation of Afro-Caribbean
religions would be unthinkable even if the persons involved in the trade
unions and the religious communities are the same.
Such regional ties as are developed between the institutioivs of strictly
Caribbean origin are due to migration. Far from respecting the balkanization
of the region, they constitute the basis of unity.
Finally, the balkanization of the Caribbean reflects the division of the
world by the large colonial empires of the West or the vestiges of this
division. Some participate in the British Commonwealth while others are
part of the French or Hispanic world or of the Kingdom of the Netherlands.
165,
At the same time, the Creole civil society has its global ties, whether through
religious congregations, Masonic associations, associations of
professionals, entrepreneurs, etc.
At all of these levels there is a wealth of new knowledge and traditions
that are useful for the control and manipulation of the milieu by both the
dominant and the subordinate groups. It is unnecessary to point out that the
dominant civil society is better equipped than the Caribbean civil society to
take advantage of it.
The Caribbean civil society also has its international linkages and
continues in the diaspora without losing its attachments to the local
institutions. The repercussions of this internationalization are felt on labour
relations in the regional groups, which must follow the institutionalization
of the links between the Caribbean diaspora and other interest or pressure
groups from the metropolises.
Just as the main social categories are a form of the presence of Europe
in the Caribbean, the practice and experience derived from their activities
produce a European vision of the region: a dominant discourse. This
discourse has two principal dimensions which advance only slowly: one
concerns the knowledge of the region and the other its system of norms and
values.
Despite its appearances of objectivity, knowledge of the local
socio-economic organization is essentially derived from the discoveries of
the social mechanisms peculiar to the European societies which are applied
by analogy to Caribbean phenomena. Local societies are described in a long
series of "operational definitions"^^ which do nothing but fly in the face
of the empirical facts.
This study has drawn attention to the concepts of slave, of maroon,
deserter or runaway, of wage-earner, of trade union, political party,
monopoly, working day, labour market, unemployment, purchase and sale,
profit, capital, entrepreneur, etc. -all concepts which divest reality of its
specificities.
This awareness serves to enhance the position of the European centres
and local elites, without in any way modifying the control of the population
over its environment. ^^^ The plans for development or decolonization
grounded on such bases evidently produce neither development nor
decolonization.
The system of norms and values in the region is subdivided into two
realities. On the one hand, there are the written codes, laws and regulations,
which evolve along the lines of the normative principles of the metropolis,
with at times a considerable lag. On the other hand, while observing the
166
implementation of these juridical principles, and more particulariy of the
rights and privileges of the individual and of all human beings, one cannot
fail to identify a kind of institutionalization of scorn for the culture and
socio-cultural organization of the oppressed peoples.
There seems to be a tacit code between the dominant groups. A
distinction may be drawn between the civil and political rights of the
European and Creole segment of the population, on the one hand, and on
the other, the obligations of the oppressed populations and of all those who,
by identifying themselves with them, seem to constitute a danger to the
established order.
By way of example, mention may be made of the suppression of
individual freedoms, or the limitations on workers' bargaining power, for
the sake of a "greater democracy" or a better economic performance; the
persecution and systematic discrimination against local institutions and
thought, particulariy against national religions; crimes of opinion, and the
prohibition against the circulation of publications which are to be found
throughout the world; the torture of political prisoners, the failure to punish
the most notorious criminals and the protection granted them by the
metropolitan governments.
It is this entire Caribbean civil society and its already deficient
management of day-to-day matters that is being relentlessly persecuted.
Everything takes place as if the national culture were on the bench of the
accused for its capacity to subsist on the basis of infinitesimal resources
scraped from here and there.
6. Conclusion
The emancipated States inherited structures of power which, by tradition,
seek to ensure that communication with the outside worid is more intense
than with the local populations. The language of the former metropolis or
a variety that is close to this remains the language of government. This
provision deprives the majority of their right to respond to official proposals
and imprisons them in an institutionalized 'infantilism" (Price-Mars).
The solidarity of the nationalist forces of which Eric Williams dreamt
is not materializing, or at least its foundations cannot resist the passage of
time. Whether or not the populations understand the stakes involved in the
political and economic situation, they fail to assert their points of view and
to negotiate without recourse to "interpreters", that is to say, to "middle
class" leaders. Because of the vulnerability of these leaders, the solidarity
of the nationalist forces is always called into question.
167
The administrators of Caribbean States, in their efforts to improve the
living standards of the population, are faced with a veritable dilemma.
Which economic reforms can both secure for the Caribbean a place on the
international markets and at the same time unite in a single "governable"
body the two civil societies?
There is always the risk of alienating foreign suppliers or the few
exporters in the region. At the same time, the gains that have been made by
the urban sectors that are integrated into the current political regime may
be endangered. The very bases for the sustenance of the system, both
internally and externally, may therefore be undermined.
On the other hand, the political tranquillity may be respected, by
addressing the immediate and urgent demands within the current framework
of the absence of a national economic system. This is only a short-term
policy. It postpones a solution to the problem of social mobilization and the
legitimization of power, and it must therefore be always ready to use police
force to prevent political instability.
Parodying the Bible, one may therefore say that in the beginning (of the
nation) was the Word. The only way of reproducing the societal projects
which the metropolitan countries contemplate for the Caribbean is to
deprive these nations "of the ability to express their thoughts".
With the failures of the current formulas for development, the
defence of the right of expression of the collective national thought
become more pressing as the political and econoniic strategies of the
power of the moment are reinforced. These are interdependent processes,
which at one point or another should lead to a solution or at least an
equilibrium.
Price-Mars published Ainsi par/a I'oncle during the third decade of the
century; the proponents of Negritude turned a deaf ear to these ideas on the
use of Creole, and some of them even became defenders of the French
language.
More recently, after the consolidation of the new power elites in the
English-speaking Caribbean, the advocates o(Black Power are rising up in
opposition to white domination and are preaching a return to Africa. This
Africa unfortunately remains as distant from the masses as the metropolitan
cultures are, and as close to the elites as is the Western culture.
Negritude or Black Power are alibis which are temporarily useful in
avoiding adoption of the local culture and advancing too quickly towards a
total democratization of the society. At this time when nation-States are
being created in the Caribbean, it is necessary to go to the source of the
ambiguities underlying the valuation of the national cultures.^®^
168
For Eric Williams, the political man is a man of culture. The States of
the region, however, replacing a form of colonialism which showed an utter
disregard for local innovations, devote no institutionalized efforts to
scientific research aimed at inventorying the cultural baggage of the
population and its systematic application to development. The region has
not a single school of anthropology, and certainly no regional or national
cultural research centres.
Price-Mars proposes the use of Creole as the only bridge between the
elite and the masses. It may be assumed that, like all languages, the national
languages of the Caribbean contain virtually all styles of discourse. The fact
is that these styles are neither developed nor codified, and are far from being
taught systematically. It is hardly surprising, then, that the advocates of
Negritude, despite their doctrinaire position, use only French and the other
imperial languages to express themselves. The development of a literary,
scientific, political or technical discourse and, above all, the creation of a
public that is capable of participating in this discourse, constitute another
collective task which will be institutionalized in the future.
The problem of the management of the region's resources transcends
the efficacy of the projects aimed at ameliorating conditions and styles of
living. The most well-intentioned governments, armed with the best
economic development strategies -if such exist- fail to achieve the level of
social dialogue capable of legitimizing their monopoly over public coercion.
They are overwhelmed by popular thought and are incapable of occupying
the spaces it explores.
The public institutions bequeathed by colonialism remain, as in the past,
incapable of controlling the political and economic environment without using
actual or potential police violence, local or imported. In current conditions, the
population -and not only or even mainly the subordinate groups- lives on the
look out for opportunities for migration to the rich countries.
Emigration is perhaps the only survival strategy on which all the social
groups are in agreement. There is no government capable of formulating a
political strategy that seeks to stem the process of depopulation, to
accompany and guide domestic social changes and to accelerate the
conclusion of such changes.
And it is not merely a question of good or ill will on the part of
governments. The people's desire "to travel out" affects official economic
development projects. In order to be the least bit effective, these projects
should achieve record levels of productivity and redistribution of income.
The question is how to legitimize power without providing better living
standards for the population in the foreseeable future.
169
Chapter 8
CULTURE AND POWER
In order to improve and preserve the styles and standards of living of the
Caribbean peoples, some further reflection on the origin of the inequalities
observed among them is called for. The history of systems of discrimination
among categories and social groups goes back to the golden age of the slave
plantation. Since that time, the exercise of political power has determined
the effectiveness of mechanisms of social discrimination, especially
discrimination within individual achievements. Political control is
consistent with the rationale of metropolitan development, i.e., it is built
into their cultures.
In the colonies,
a certain access to metropolitan culture was the only
cumulative way of improving standards and styles of living. "Education"
played a fundamental role in attaining such access and was imperative in
the view of both "educated" Creoles and freedmen. The actual impossibility
of memorizing and putting into practice exotic cultural content did not
prevent the dominant groups from extolling the virtues of schooling, cultural
dissemination and creolization.
The fallacious assimilation of culture to education, and of education to
teaching -preferably in a classroom- assisted in justifying certain forms of
social discrimination, and kept dominant groups in the colony from
perceiving the dynamics of their own cultural creativity and of alternative
inventiveness. Apa tent fact was thus overlooked: thecreativity of the nation
and the ingenuity of its survival strategies.
The original social structure was reproduced in the colonial culture by
systematically disregarding the specific features of the colonized social
body, or more exactly, by the imaginary elimination of these specific
features. The colonial relationship interminably reproduced the divergence
of these two forms of rationale -the dominant and the oppressed- and
ensured that this reproduction took place largely outside the scope of social
awareness.
171
The discussion below attempts to describe the gradual disappearance
of the colonial relationship. The deep cleavage between the social categories
established by various forms of colonialism that invaded the Caribbean was
slowly eroded by the action of social groupings in a tortuous process of
creating nation-States to represent and defend their interests. The problem
of the nation-State's viability in the Caribbean and the question of links that
exist between culture and power worldwide are not addressed here. The
discussion is rather confined to defining the contemporary problem of the
relationship between culture, politics and power in the Caribbean.
1. Social categories
The number of inhabitants living in the Caribbean or in each of its territorial
units is relatively small. Manifestly, these populations -nearly all from other
regions of the world originally- have become linked together in one way or
another. Presently, national societies as well as efforts to institutionalize
some form of regional unity can be found.
The fact that peoples of the region became grouped together during
and not before colonization means that their unique cultural dynamics
-without necessarily differing from those of any other cultures- cannot
be analyzed without taking into consideration the original relationship
of submission and rebellion. Moreover, the fact that their cultural
dynamics existed in a state of virtual imprisonment within other
cultural frameworks played a crucial role in their systems and methods
of knowledge.
The social organization of production in a plantation or a peasant
economy impacted on the knowledge, habits, norms and values of the local
population. Conversely, this spiritual heritage helped the Caribbean
inhabitant to operate within this world of material relationships and possibly
to change some aspects of it. The social organization of agro-export
production was not established by the local population however, nor did its
performance depend on the decisions of the latter. Similarly, the conditions
of existence and survival of the peasant society were largely independent
of peasant initiatives.
The environment surrounding Caribbean inhabitants included societal
projects which were not formulated by them and to which they had to adapt.
They lived in a milieu whose evolution was not a primary function of their
own initiatives, but of advances made by overseas communities organized
according to principles upon which they had little influence. Intervening
between the Caribbean populations and their milieux, the metropolitan
172
institutions assigned a role in their regional policies to these populations
that could not be ignored by the latter.
The settlement of the Caribbean involved the recruitment of people into
categories defining the plantation system as a socioeconomic organization
without precedence in either the history and geography of the territories or
in the traditions of the concerned populations. The first pair of significant
categories originated in the very process of establishing the plantations and
were of course, planters and slaves. The socio-political environment of a
plantation society underscores its artificial nature as evidenced by the
subsequent replacement of slaves by freedmen.
To say that the categories of planters, slaves and freedmen were set up
by some external entity is to recognize that they evolved within the
framework of a primary contradiction: the antinomy between nég and Man
of the Creole language spoken in Haiti, which in the present context,
distinguishes the recruiters from the recruited. We can see that planters,
slaves and freedmen all formed parts of the category "recruited".
The pair of concepts blan and nég evidenced the impact of existing
international relations on the local culture, expressing how the local system
experienced its insertion into the larger structure of the major empires. The
blan belonged to another ethnic group, subdivided into various nationalities.
The boundaries between nég and blan were clear. Identifying criteria and
symbols which were not always, or at least not primarily, of a racial nature,
allowed the distinction to be drawn between the two categories.^^
Prior to emancipation the planter and his agents, with whom the State
shared its monopoly on violence, were directly responsible for the workers'
enslavement. This was the period of deepest societal fragmentation in the
region. It is the period of the "total" institutions described by Raymond T.
Smith.^®^ The planter was a blan.
Following emancipation, whatever the inequalities existing between
planters and freedmen -which the colonial State was responsible for
enforcing- the interests of the metropolises and those of dominant groups
in the colony grew increasingly apart. These divergences of interests
formed the backdrop for the birth of national Caribbean societies, albeit
still segmented yet moving towards the formulation of a minimal social
contract.
Consequently, the planter ceased to be a blan. He participated in
networks of human groups, including perhaps persons from the dominated
categories and formed primarily for the purpose of surviving under colonial
oppression. Public administration however, continued to reflect the local
presence of foreigners.
173
This split within the European segment of the Caribbean societies was
especially evident in the territories occupied by England following the
Napoleonic wars, namely, Dominica, Saint Lucia, Grenada and Trinidad.
As the French people in these islands became part of the nég group, the
incoming colonial authorities, the English, represented the new Man.
The terms chosen to refer to the traditionally dominant groups, i.e.,
békés in Martinique, mulattos in Haiti and Dominica, or French Creoles in
Trinidad, distinguished between sectors belonging to the dominant social
category rather than among individual ethnic groups. These terms point up,
however, a certain identification with the blan, or foreigners. The békés,
mulattos and French Creoles have always been the protégésoí all colonial
administrations, i.e., of the blan.
2. Cultural dynamics
The primacy of the colonial relationship in the Caribbean was pervasive
throughout the daily life of the population. This fact is not visible however,
in a macro-social reading of the history of the region. It can be discovered
only by examining the conditions in which the groups within it were
established and continued to function.
An analysis of the formation of these groupings needs to focus on the
tools of knowledge and judgement forged by the inhabitants. This approach
is essential in territories inhabited by migrants from a host of different
countries who originally belonged to heterogeneous cultural systems.
Cultural studies on the Caribbean often cite Spanish, French, British or
Dutch influences as well as African influence. They do not often observe that
the regions of Africa are at least as varied as those of Europe, and that references
to the Spanish, French, British or Dutch Caribbean are remnants of colonialism.
Since the socio-culniral system in which the African emigrants had to
operate existed prior to their arrival, this population had necessarily to adapt to
it. From the beginning there was a separation between the material and
normative foundations of socio-economic organization originated in Europe
and the tools of knowledge and judgement used by the incoming social actors.
It was through an effort to discover how the dominant system operated,
together with the successes and failures of this effort and then, through an
effort to set up the channels of transmission of such discovery to the newly
emigrating recruits and later generations, that Caribbean culture with its
unique rationale, built its specific characteristics. The system of Caribbean
thought does not derive from the overall socio-cultural context in which it
was inserted and further effects no repercussions upon it.
174
The original tools of understanding for the working population in
plantation societies were undoubtedly African. Since African societies were
no more homogeneous than those of Europe, the emigrants had to put
together a new set of ideas and data. Moreover, the dominant system, by
institutionalizing the enslavement of these emigrants or excessively
exploiting the freedmen, destroyed any possibility of cross-fertilization
between adjunct dominant and dominated world views.
The discovery of how the dominant system worked and the formulation
of survival strategies were both causes and effects of the creation of a
community from "the confused amalgam of individuals" disgorged from
the slave ships. To decode the socio-cultural organization that absorbed him,
the enslaved had to form groups of individuals or somehow become part of
those groups that were equipped to accept him. Specific units -families,
villages, multi-purpose groups, and networks of groupings, families and
villages gradually grew out of this insertion.
The enslaved also had to invent mechanisms and systems of
communication. Interpretive criteria arose which gave meaning and value
to the components of the dominant socio-economic organization. The
participation of emigrants in the plantation systems presupposed the
formulation of their own theory of the European socio-cultural organization,
incorporated in their oral tradition.
This progressive change was at the same time part of the history of the
socio-cultural organization of the dominated themselves, the history of a
life-style that conesponded to accidents that befell them as well as to a
culture which they controlled and for which they established criteria of
excellence.
This "popular culture", bom and raised under the sign of repression,
remained undiscoverable outside of its relationship to power and to
prevailing ideological control.^^
The survival of the enslaved depended on their skill in setting up, on
the basis of their knowledge of the dominant system, a socio-cultural
organization that was able to manipulate and outmanoeuvre the system.
Their system of beliefs and knowledge and the meaning they attributed to
their surroundings had to perform in relation to an outside organization, i.e.,
within a context having its own dynamics and independent of their actions.
The dominant society was not of their doing -far from it.
What is important here is not the way of life invented by the migrants,but their survival strategies and the criteria set in motion to shield them
against the effects of colonial exploitation. The admittedly modest
performance of these groups demonstrates the strength of the dominant
175
system; but it does not negate the social cohesion required in order to
survive, nor the indomitable nature of the source of this cohesion.
The performance of life-styles that developed depended on
unforeseeable circumstances. The dynamics of the dominant society were
not merely the result of exploitation of the emigrants.
The life-styles of Caribbean societies differed in many more respects
than did their cultures. Similarly, the tangible inequalities among various
social strata were much more pronounced than were the differences among
their systems of knowledge. If this point is not fully grasped, the meaning
of national unity in the Caribbean and the unity of the Caribbean region
itself cannot be adequately understood.
It is proper to speak of differences of behaviours, life-styles or culture,
between planters and enslaved since they belonged to different social
categories. But there is no need to place particular stress on the differences
in the behaviours, life-styles and culture of enslaved, freedmen and
maroons. These social actors came from the same class or social category.
An enslaved might have had an opportunity to escape. He might have
slipped unnoticed into the city and passed for a freedman, or joined up with
the maroons, or even returned to his master, depending on the individual
circumstances of his escape. A whole common system of knowledge,
criteria and symbols shared by enslaved, freedmen and maroons existed and
the immense variety of behaviours and life-styles separating them depended
on fortuitous circumstances.^®^ It was not the culture of these three social
actors that distinguished them, but the conditions in which they
operationalized same.
The same was true for societies of the region. In the late eighteenth
century, revolutionary France experimented with a series of domestic
reforms which weakened its international position. Against this
background, revolutionary disturbances transformed a number of societies
of the region while others remained apparently intact.
In Martinique, for example, such changes which marked the history of
Haiti, Saint Lucia, Guadeloupe and Dominica did not take place. The British
occupied the island shortly after the French Revolution, from 1794 to 1802,
and kept the local culture from expressing itself as it did elsewhere.
Nonetheless the culture of Martinique did not differ from that of the former
French colonies, in spite of historical circumstances which explained its
peculiar expressions.
The dynamics of the dominant culture were similar to those of the
oppressed one, only the ties that linked these cultures to either Europe or
Africa varied. Here the dichotomy between nég and Man was replicated.
176
The dominant culture was inspired by European culture in its exploitation
of the dominated categories, while the oppressed culture looked to its
African roots to find the tools of resistance.
The observation that there were differences in cultural content does
not affect the dynamics of the systems under consideration. Unlike the
enslaved, the planters had little difficulty in comprehending the
internal rationale of the plantation society. They remained fragments
of the metropolitan society sufficiently detached from it in order to
settle the colonies.
As soon as the projected path of the metropolis differed from theirs and
they had to depend on their own ingenuity, the planters set up a series of
interpersonal relationship» to help solve the problems that arose in their new
relationship with Europe. They became involved in daily exchanges whose
rationality, although deriving from that of their mother country, would
depart from it as time passed.
In the face of changes in the economic policy of the metropolises, the
planters gradually learned to decode the world economic structure to which
the plantation system belonged. They had to create a theory of metropolitan
policy. They had to ensure the survival of the plantation society in the
context of external dynamics whose pace and direction they could not
control.
The dominant culture, i.e., the planters' system of thought, included a
store of knowledge, symbols and criteria related to those of the
metropolitans. It differed from that of the metropolitan culture however, in
its theory of social development, which granted to the plantation system a
role that no dominant group of the metropolis would endorse.
The standards used by the planters to evaluate metropolitan policies and
to make decisions about the development of their plantations were set by
the networks of social groups that they had established to help them in their
daily lives. The dominant local culture thus possessed a rationale which
could be measured against metropolitan principles.^®®
Thus, the planter carried two cultures within him: the metropolitan
culture and the dominant local culture, where the seed of a national,
consensus-based culture was germinating. Gradually, by ceasing to be a
blan, i.e., a foreigner to the survival strategies of the territories, the planter,
like the enslaved, had to try to reproduce himself independent of the
development dynamics of the metropolis.
The planter's life evolved by negotiating a modus vivendi both with the
colonial authorities and with the freedmen. Neither the metropolis'
sympathy toward him nor his dependency upon it had any effect on his need
177
to formulate criteria of judgement and action adapted to his own
circumstances.
One must not jump to the conclusion, however, that the similar cultural
dynamics of the dominant and dominated groups of the Caribbean led to
the existence of a single cultural group and the formation of a Creole culture.
The differences in principle that guided the behaviour of the planters and
the enslaved are fundamental.
In order to r e p r o d u c e their social g r o u p s - c r e a t o r s and
implementors of their survival strategies-, the slaves tended to destroy
or at least erode the social category to which they were assigned. The
planters also had to see that the groups to which they belonged were
reproduced. This task meant however that the dominant social category
and its relevant colonial relations had to be both defended and
strengthened.
The opposition between the dominant and dominated social categories
manifested itself in the action of specific human groups formed to resolve
the problems of daily life. Both of these groups made decisions
autonomously on two types of common obstacles: first, the physical
environment in which they had to survive and secondly, the social
environment set up by external centres of power whose interests differed
from those of local categories and groupings.
Both dominant and dominated groups had to separate their interests
from those of the metropolises and conditions existed for discovering forms
of social interaction based on criteria held in common by both types of social
groups, as will be seen below.
It must be underlined however, that it was not the similarity of
their cultural dynamics nor of their heritage that brought the social
groups together. A relatively unified culture resulted from a common
body of social practices aimed at meeting the challenges posed by the
environment. Such was the way in which interpersonal relations
impacted upon the s y s t e m s of social categories imposed by
colonialism.
3. The governors and the governed
The pairs of categories "governors/governed" on the one hand and
"planters/slaves or freedmen" on the other represented two different levels
of social relations. The first pair belonged to the framework of the
metropolis/colony relationship, and the second to the implementation of the
metropolitan project of colonial organization.
178
In performing their functions, the governors maintained relations with
the political and juridical institutions of the metropolis, while the planters
established a relationship with the economic institutions of the latter.
When the colony lost its specifically economic raison d'etre and
metropolitan enterprises were no longer dependent upon its products,
existing political relations ensured the profitability of its agro-export
activities. Metropolitan protection took the form of preferential treatment,
subsidies and quotas of various types enabling the colony to continue its
development indepeadent of market forces. The relations between
governors and governed thus became more relevant to an explanation of the
evolution of domestic affairs.
The planter's relationship with the metropolis was more flexible than
that of the public administrator with the latter. A planter might even have
formed an allegiance with another metropolis. His relationship with his own
plantation and workers might also vary. However, the relationships that
prevailed among the colonial administrator, the metropolis and the
governed were invariable. The administrator was a delegate and employee
of the political system, responsible for supervising the execution of the
colonial plan designed by a specific metropolis. He had to accept the
rationale of colonization and a particular system of colonization.
Beginning in the nineteenth century, the main concern of the
metropolises was to control and administer strategic positions in the
Caribbean. After the Second World War, the Caribbean's geopolitical value
changed and it found itself in the midst of the cold war between the United
States of America and the Soviet Union.
An exploitation colony is incompatible with domestic social cohesion
and the setting up of parameters for self-reliant control of the
socio-economic structure. Outright appropriation of a strategic position is
even less likely to be so.
A group of territories is made to serve a strategic function by converting
the inhabitants into a disorderly herd or an inorganic crowd, to use
Price-Mars' tem^^®' and by arranging for their human resources to be
underemployed.^
If not,^n endogenous economic system with its own division of labour
will flourish and hence, a series of social practices tending to create cohesion
and consensus in one form or another will develop.
In any society attempting to meet the needs of its members, a certain
amount of experience is accumulated. Knowledge about how to control the
environment leads to social behaviours whose results may be unrelated to
the interests -strategic or otherwise- of the external powers.
179
In colonies whose economic activity is of only marginal utility, the
mechanisms for recruiting civil servants -the main avenue for upward social
mobility- form the basis for an analysis of political structures. To have
access to and maintain bureaucratic posts, the colonial elite had to leam the
rationale of colonization.
All that remained of European culture in the colonies appeared as a
caricature derived from Western culture, but it must not be confused with
the criteria, knowledge and values that governed social exchanges in Europe
itself.
It is this sort of European culture that is meant in referring to the
dominant culture in the Caribbean. Governors and the governed, planters
and freedmen abided by the raison d'etre of the colonial system. The actual
content of the metropolitan culture escaped them however, since culture is
not learned but has to be enacted.
In order to fully understand the role of the civil service before and after
the Caribbean countries gained their independence, there is a need to look
back to the categorization of the world system into blan and nég by the local
population. Not only was the colonial administrator the main vehicle for
transmitting the dominant culture, but his governmental practices were the
materialization of the colonial rationale.
The entire public and private, material and spiritual administration of
the Caribbean remained consistent with the demands for total extroversion
of the socio-economic organization and the series of criteria and principles
guiding the appropriation of the region by colonial empires. These
relationships included political and military relations, the activities of the
plantation system, vocational training or on-the-job experience in the
maintenance, administration and expansion of the colony, public education,
teaching and practice of European religions and health services.
Communication with the metropolis was much more important to the
civil service than dialogue with the population. It made more sense for the
governors to explain themselves to the metropolitans than to the local
people. Power was legitimized in Europe and the local culture had only to
acknowledge its effectiveness.
4. The governed become part of the govemineiit: the planters
The life-styles in Caribbean communities did not develop in the direction
of greater adaptation to the plantation environment. The influence of this
form of organization has been exaggerated, and the r e g i o n ' s
socio-economic dynamics have thus been obscured.
180
The path taken by the regional communities could have moved towards
greater adaptation to the plantation if the latter, in turn, had been dynamic
enough to successfully integrate the prevailing world economy. The
plantation, however, had never been required to operate in a market
economy. When buying its inputs it had always managed to evade the labour
market while it had to protect itself against international competition when
selling its outputs.
A distinction must be drawn between the intention or effort to establish
and defend the plantation economy and the reality of such an economy. Past
qommentary on the evolution of Caribbean societies has been on the wrong
track because it focused on discovering what economic solution was used
to save an institution which was never a part of the economic structures in
the first place. It is one thing to say that the output of the plantations
circulated in the international market, and another to say that the functions
of production in the plantation system conformed to some sort of economic
structure.
The plantations, in response to the difficulties confronting them,
formulated make-shift solutions. Since they were not organized according
to market-economy principles, their possibilities for growth lay outside the
scope of economic activities.
The plantation owners and administrators tried to reproduce the
conditions essential to the functioning of these institutions. Their
development strategy consisted of safeguarding the political climate which
determined the social categories on which the system was based.
It was precisely this political climate that could no longer be reproduced
in the age of the industrial revolution and the building of the great colonial
empires. The plantation society had to change, organizing production in
such a way that it would fit into the context of the new colonial policy.
What took place then was a dual shift -both geographical and socialin the populations. There were internal migrations by freedmen, a principal
factor in the establishment of the peasant economy or the urban economy
of the tradesmen. These migrations later included the movement of workers
to the cities and towns of the Caribbean Basin and of the metropolises where
jobs were available. For their part, the planters vied with one another for
posts in the civil service, modifying the structure of the social pyramid.
The distance between the planters and the metropolis was accentuated
in the nineteenth century, when it became clear that there was no inherent
relationship between the administration of the colony and the development
of the plantation system. The knowledge acquired in export agriculture was
181
no longer useful for servicing the relationship between the colony and the
metropolis.
From that point on, two different rationales influenced the behaviour of
the planters. One aimed at reproducing the relationship between the
metropolis and its colony and the other at protecting the existing social
relations within the colony. The social category was being split in two, while
the human groupings remained the same.
Since the relationship between the metropolis and the colony toók
precedence over the social relations within the colony itself, this led to new,
basic social categories. These no longer centred on organizing daily
activities in the region, but concentrated instead on managing the colonial
relationship.
Despite the series of measures that favoured the planters, the colonial
State no longer shared with them its monopoly on violence.
This power
was exercised directly through its civil servants, recruited on the spot if
necessary. The dichotomy between the nég and the Man expressed by the
pair of local categories "governors" and "the governed", took root in the
colonized society and some of the governed were invited to form part of the
government.
The opening up of the civil service to the dominant groups in the
region consolidated its balkanization. The autonomy of these civil
servant recruits grew within the context of the official norms of the
colony. The cleavages between the British, French, Spanish or Dutch
Caribbean peoples became local issues. These new "middle classes"
flourished as fierce partisans of balkanization and defenders of the
imperial frontiers.
The plantation crisis and the shift of the Creole elite from agro-export
management to service activities set off a slippage from one cultural system
to another that proved to be of enormous importance in the cultural history
of the region. While one sector of the plantation aristocracy participated in
the governing of the colony -although admittedly not without a certain
amount of conflict with the metropolitan authorities-,^^ another sector was
attempting to move closer to the oppressed culture.
The operation of large plantations adapted to the colonial policy of the
nineteenth century and sought to adj ust itsel f to the development of different
forms of the peasant economy. Sharecropping and piecework were
compromise solutions between slave labour and salaried work.
Opportunities for the creation of new human groups multiplied. These
arrangements of individuals despite the persistence of forms of exploitation,
thereafter brought together in the same process of social negotiation,
182
persons belonging to the deeply antagonistic and original categories of the
eighteenth century.
Together with the greater balkanization of the region due to the
strengthening of the local political and administrative structures, the
symbols and criteria of local origin contained in the oppressed culture
became more generalized. A growing body of knowledge, standards and
symbols develojKd and was shared by the entire jKipulation of the Caribbean
territories -planters and enslaved, békés and the freedmen, mulattoes and
nég noirs-. Despite the cleavages that separated ¡arsons belonging to one
or another category, this knowledge served to promote communication
between an increasing number of groups and helped develop larger
networks of relationships.
This process did not advance at the same pace throughout the territories
however. The Study and Research Group on the Creole-speaking World
(GEREC), in a publication of the Caribbean-Guiana University Centre notes
the intertwining of cultural values in the subregion's history:
In order to understand fully the dialectical functioning of the
socio-cultural groups in our countries, it is useful to note that
precisely at a time when the middle classes, in an alliance with the
democrats and liberals of the metropolis, spurn Creole^^^ in favour
of a headlong rush towards the adoption of cultural values
associated with the use of the French language, one witnesses
among the békés a veritable psychological reinsertion into
Creole.1^^
The social contract sketched out at that time -and still being negotiated
in the region- in no way resembles the hypothetical model of a consensus
that would have developed without reference to the colonial relationship. It
is the world of tacit conventions and standards of the formerly enslaved
which flourishes together with the peasant economy and imposes itself on
the entire local population during the successive crises of the plantation
system.
The dominant groups in the Caribbean learn to juggle openly with the
know-how and official norms of the dominant culture. In their private lives
and in the agricultural production intended for their own consumption, they
put into practice the principles created by the maroons and subsequently by
the peasants.
This skill in manipulating two systems of knowledge seems to be a
widespread feature in the Caribbean. It permits identification of the
foreigner, the blan, i.e., the colonial administrator to whom this
sophistication escapes. The isolation of public servants who subsequently
18'i
take over from the colonial administration springs from the same need to
operate within a single logical system.
The distinction then between transmitters of the dominant culture and
the creators of the oppressed culture loses its meaning.^^^ The intertwining
of standards and guidelines of conduct that characterizes social life in the
Caribbean may be viewed as a project of national unity or the creation of a
unique civil society which would include planters as well as freedmen.
5. The governed become part of the govemment: the freedmen
With the continuing decline of export agriculture, the metropolis opened
the doors of public administration to the local elites. The first wave of
planters and sons of planters incorporated into the lower levels of public
service was succeeded by the freedmen and their descendants.
The arrival of the freedmen on the official political scene coincided with
the granting of administrative autonomy -self- government, and more
precisely nominal independence. This process began with the great
agricultural workers' strikes which took place between the two world wars.
With the withdrawal of the occupation army -or at least its inability to
intervene without maintaining a semblance of respect for international
norms- law and order relied increasingly on popular participation. This
participation in the govemment of the colony (which is generally regarded
as the beginning of the decolonization process) was not very different from
the absorption of the planter class in the nineteenth century.
The difference between the rise of the freedmen and that of ihe planters
lies first and foremost in the level of public administration accessible to
them. Planters and their offspring occupied posts as subordinates of the
administrators dispatched from the metropolises and freedmen held
positions throughout the administrative structure.
The attitude of those recruited into public service was largely explained
by the type of links which they maintained with their social groups of origin.
The "middle classes" that emerged from the groups of freedmen achieved
their standards of living and prestige only through the exercise of their new
functions.
The offspring of planters who were absorbed by the colonial
administration did not give up their ties with export agriculture and their
working relationships with agricultural workers and sharecroppers. This
gave rise to what GEREC refers to as "a veritable psychological reinsertion
into Creole". The nationalism of the mulatto aristocracy in Dominica
provides a good example of this reinvestment in the local world.
184
For the freedmen, there was a phenomenon of "weaning", to use yet
another term of GEREC, away from the bases and standards of national life.
These "new middle classes", who lived only through public service and
evolved within rigid frames of reference were transformed into beacons of
civilization and champions of an increasingly more sophisticated
dissemination of the metropolitan culture and its local version. It should
also be noted that this group replaced the original administrators sent from
the metropolis. These were the new Man.
This analysis led to the classification of the proponents of Negritude as
part of the new blan and this may seem strange. It must be remembered that
the doctrine of Negritude constitutes a response to the racism of the
nineteenth century. According to this doctrine, the re-evaluation of that
which survives of African culture is proposed as another argument in favour
of the equality of the black race. Moreover, the political doctrine of these
theoreticians, which took root particularly in the "French-speaking
Caribbean", regards racial conflicts as class conflicts. The work of Francois
Duvalier, his writings ^^and his actions as a statesman are proof of this.
The racial issues deriving from Western imperialists' adventures are
thus reflected in the internal structure of the contemporary Caribbean and
either explicitly or implicitly illustrate its cultural policies. In this view,
according to Hurbon's studies:
Sharing political and intellectual power with the mulattoes is a form
of cultural reform which implies "harmonizing in our country the
two cultures -African and Gallo-Roman".^'^
The aim of the theoreticians of Negritude is to show that blacks can
master culture and civilization:
The common thread that runs through this discourse is precisely the
belief that Christian culture and civilization are all cultures and all
civilizations: it is this belief that this culture can redeem blacks, and
that it will be the focus for their cultural blossoming. TTirough their
representatives, elites and leader, all of whom rise to the level of
power of the whites .. (...), proof is furnished that the black world
has emerged from darkness, and has earned legitimacy as a
"human", "civilized" worid.^^®
At the heart of concerns of the freedmen elite -which the proponents
of Negritude in Haiti refer to as "the black middle classes"- is their need to
measure themselves against the metropolis, their acceptance of Western
hegemony, a need for authoritarian political direction while scorning the
ignorant masses and a notorious inferiority complex which we shall later
refer to.
185
While the béké of Martinique reverted to the Creole language, thereby
becoming reintegrated into the local culture, the "blacks" in power
attempted to prove to the metropolitans that they were their equals. They
set out to master the "culture" and its vehicle, the official language of the
region. In 1928, Jean Price-Mars distancing himself from that current noted:
it is through this language (Creole) thai we can hope one day to
bridge the gap which makes of us (the elite) and the people two
apparently different and often antagonistic entities.^^
6. Power and crsoUzation
Price-Mars' relationship to Negritude is an ambiguous one,
paralleling
other theoreticians of creolization. The difference is due to the fact that both
Price-Mars and the advocates of creolization belong to twentieth century
schools of thought. The creolization theories themselves are transfers of
anthropological doctrines on cultural dissemination into political ideology.
Negritude and creolization overlap and influence each other. They
are, however, two fields of thought, two contexts and two different
societal projects. Price-Mars was quoted in a 1928 text along with
contemporan' theoreticians of creolization such as Edward Kamau
Braithwaite, ^ because of his foresight, uncovering an idea developed only
during the last quarter of this century, i.e., the advent of "the inner
plantation".
The theories of creolization as formulated by the first generation of
citizens of the so-called English-speaking Caribbean mapj^d out the project
of society proposed by the new power elites.
Claiming to be
scientific,^ ^ they inspired a specific cultural policy.
The first rallying point of the theoreticians of creolization is the notion
of cultural pluralism. The cultures that crossed the Atiantic with the African
migrants were combined under the aegis of the dominant European culture,
which imparted a unique and ethnocentric bias.
The reverse side of cultural pluralism is the absence of an indigenous
culture in the Caribbean as a result of the genocide of the Amerindians. This
idea is expressed by Eric Williams in a paper presented to the Congress of
Black Writers and Artists, held in Rome in 1959. He declared that the
Caribbean had no culture of its own and that the task of the political leader
was as follows:
(to promote) the conscious advancement (...) of all cultural forms
and manifestations which, while not indigenous, are based on a
conscious or unconscious adaptation of their European and
186
American heritages to their individual personality, needs and
environment. (To seek to) consciously integrate in a harmonious
whole, to weave in an orderly pattern, the disparate threads of
culture that make up the West Imdies -illie E u r o i ^ n (whether
Spanish, French or English), the African, the IndiaE, the Chinese,
the SyrianTwenty years later, Rex Nettleford returns to Williams' Aeses with a
more detailed analysis. He examines in a more explicit manner a second
point commoniy held by the theoreticians of cireoHzatioini. This concerns the
vital imiKjrtance of wielding control of political power ia order to forge
national unity.
M.G. Smith describes the island of two million SOBIS (Jamaica) as
deeply segmented aggregation of descendants ofEurofssan masters,
African slaves and in-between offspring of both. Each group has
built up cultural institutions independent of each other but each with
its own inner logic and consistency. (...) "National unity" is
therefore forged not by an organic cultura! integration but by the
concentration of coercive power in the hands of a political
directorate. Needless to say, such a "unity" is sustained by a high
sense of s elf-interest and survival.^
The idea of cultural hybridizing from which the concept of
creolization emerges, is but a continuation of the concept that Europe
created the modern Caribbean. On the American coEtinemt, Europe
discovered civilizations which, under one pretest or another, it felt
authorized to destroy. It could not help but mote, however, the
existence of another style of life, which was precisely what it set out
to transform.
In the Caribbean, Europe (along with the theoreticians of creolization)
did not have an opportunity to perceive that another world view existed or
was being developed in the shadow of colonization. The Creole Caribbean
would be, for its inventors, a ía¿)«/aríMfl in which elements of all the world's
cultures converged.
The problem of the popular response to oppression considered in its
psychological dimension, was viewed both as an inferiority complex and
an expression of racial pride.^ European culture would have created
within the colonized person an inferiority complex which emasculated
him.^^ "Intellectual" elites would then be responsible to select the
ingredients necessary to "balance" the local c u l t u r e . ^
This messianic endeavour which the elite imposed upon itself is
challenged in the above-mentioned article by Eric Williams. What is
1R7
important for Williams is the mechanics of hybridization and the meeting
of the cultures. A statesman must be a man of culture, the mirror of his
own people.
Nevertheless, with hybridization, the necessary conclusion is that the
combination of these fragments of cultures cannot stand up to the majesty
of the European edifice. Nettleford states after a description of the
instruments of popular resistance:
But good as these instruments of survival and growth have been,
none has been totally effective in bringing about the sort of
liberation dreamed of by so many not only in terms of statutory
freedom and constitutional autonoi^ but also in terms of cultural
authenticity and economic control.
In view of the fact that outside socio-cultural entities perform better
than those of the Caribbean, the only way for the evolution of the local
culture would be located in its slow absorption by these worldwide cultural
entities. Since the Caribbean was cut off from Africa and Asia, and in light
of Europe's ubiquitous presence, the Caribbean cultural mix, for better or
worse, would increasingly become composed of elements from the West,
while contributions from Africa and Asia would be gradually diluted.
It is against the spectre of the disappearance of Caribbean culture
-surreptitiously announced in their own prophecies- that the theoreticians
of creolization (metamorphosed into politicians) are struggling. In order to
avoid this catastrophe, these shapers of the new Caribbean society ^^^strive
to formulate strategies for the preservation and development of African
cultural values in order to keep the cultural specificity of the region alive
by a continuous return to its presumed origins.
The creolizing cultural policy appears in its true light, similar to the
long-suffering diligence of Penelope. The struggle against European
ethnocentrism would probably last as long as Europe maintains its
ethnocentrism. The proposed cultural policy would enable the State to
reproduce its ideological structure indefmitely and maintain in place those
responsible for its "cultural" authenticity.
The aim would be to ensure forever the control of the enlightened
descendants of the freedraen -the shapers of the new Caribbean societyover the powers of the State. The interminable process of "indigenization"
or "creolization" of "culture" would then transcend all political regimes and
development strategies.^^ ^
The difference between the cultural policy proposed by Nettleford and
those of the colonial empires is that in his view, the sources for the
importation of culture should be more diversified. Schooling, under the
188
guise of education, should become not the pillar of local culture but rather
the pillar of the "local colour" of culture. Instead of confronting what is
perceived as a "bombardment" of Western culture with greater creativity,
Nettleford entrusts to a selective pan-Africanism the task of fertilizing the
Caribbean soil.
In conclusion, it must be emphasized that these criticisms of theories
of creolization clearly reflect a divergent political position. In the case of
the partisans of creolization, European authoritarianism and ethnocentrism
are replaced by their own authoritarianism and ethnocentrism. European
ideas and paradigms dominate their thinking to such an extent that they
forget the people to whom this theory should be addressed and whose role
as shapers of their own society cannot be delegated.
The rejection of creolization is also the result of opposing schools of
thought. The methodological position of theories of cultural dissemination
fails to understand where the sources of cultural specificity lie:
(...) Culture is best seen not as complexes of concrete behavior
patterns -customs, usages, traditions, habit clusters- as has, by and
large, been the case up to now, but as a set of control mechanisms
-plans, recipes, rules, instructions (what computer engineers call
"programs")- for the governing of behavior.
7. Toward a new social contract
The colonial relationship, reduced to its simplest terms, is an authoritarian
relationship between the governing and the governed. For the colonized, it
is a relationship of a political nature and not the result of any particular
performance.
What is at stake in the forms of socialization that develop is the
safeguarding and collective improvement of life-styles. In societies as
minuscule as those of the Caribbean, the improvement of social behaviour
which comes about through an understanding of the rules of the colonial
game is nullified by variegated obstacles which exist outside of the
principles governing interpersonal relationships.
In the region, improvements in living standards basically result from
advances in the world economic system. Progress in this world system
derives from a social dynamic in contradistinction to what operates in the
daily lives of the social groups of the Caribbean since the basic social
categories of the world system are not to be found in the region.
The colonial State and the groups which control its institutions spread
awareness of the principles and trends of the metropolitan societies. In this
189
view, the political factors which explained the relative backwardness of the
colonized economies are given secondary importance in relation to the need
to improve the styles and standards of living of the underdeveloped
countries.
The colonial culture is centred on the formulation of decisions
increasingly adapted to an external milieu and dynamic. Reflexion on social
exchanges in the colony itself becomes an occupation for the dilettante,
unrelated to economic development.
With the modification of the colonial relationship and the proliferation
of formal declarations of independence, any negative repercussions of
asymmetry that characterize international relations are blurred even further.
The political and administrative structures put in place by the metropolises
become the only channel of expression of the newly emerging national
sovereignties. TTie relationships then, between political forces at the local
level is played out in this mould created to satisfy the original colonial
relationship.
By continuing the colonial strategies, local politics centres around
the improvement of styles and standards of living. The negligible
developmental results obtained from the exercise of nominal
sovereignty are attributed to technical d e f i c i e n c i e s of the
administrative apparatus. This situation thus justifies the search for aid,
again from external sources, in order to strengthen the administrative
systems and thereby the performance of the national economies. This
is the frantic search for economic development, conceived as
improvement in life-styles.
But there is a short circuit in evidence: a) the dominant role assigned to
politics in the establishment of the world economy tends to elude social
consciousness; b) the rules of the world economy determine the
performances of national economies; c) such performances hold the key to
the legitimization of national political power.
Under the dominant culture, political rationality is divorced from
economic rationality. It is necessary, however, to simultaneously satisfy the
need for legitimization of the new States and to halt the decline of the
national economic systems.
In seeking to hold on to the reins of power, governments advance
- willingly or by force - toward the administration of the oppressed culture.
The understanding and implementation of all knowledge and criteria of
judgement formulated by the population becomes then an alternative to the
legitimization of power through the success of economic development
policies.
190
Presently the key issue of the relationships between caliure,
politics and power in the Caribbean centres around the vulnerability of
a colonially inherited State embattled by the enrichnieni of the
oppressed culture. The local culture, as the titled depositary of national
sovereignty, gradually infiltrates the negotiations between power
elites.
The new "middle classes" still do not manage to penetrate, much less
to successfully administer, this stronghold of culture erected by the
population. Their itinerary may be summarized in the following siar.Ker:
1. The social pyramid in the Caribbean is very selective at the top, and
the mechanisms of upward mobility are imported. Public service is
the principal avenue used by the governed (planters and freedmen)
for the cumulative improvement of life-styles.
2. The deterioration of national economies in the nineteenth and
twentieth centuries forced the elite in power to embark on a predeei
return to the local culture.
3. The need for legitimization of power in the midst of growing
economic stagnation makes it necessary to approach domestic
social negotiations as well as international political negotiations
from the perspective of norms and institutions created by the
Caribbean nations themselves.
The vibrancy observed in the Caribbean is heightened by the
repercussions of an emigration that results from the deterioration of 5he
life-styles of the region and affects all social classes. As a consequence, the
Caribbean diaspora storms the labour markets of the rich countries despite
enormous social costs.
In the present situation, the impact on the region's economy of
remittances from "absent citizens" become more effective than any State
policy of income distribution. The metropolitan authorities therefore adopt,
without success, increasingly drastic restraining measures on the flow of
potential migrants, while at the same time attempting to augment
international technical assistance.
The governments of the Caribbean are rapidly approaching the
embarrassing situation of having to choose between the defence of their
more enterprising nationals and the defence of the established international
order. The legitimization of political power cannot indefinitely avoid this
dilemma.
Moreover, the insertion of "absent citizens" in the political systems of
the metropolis offers the governments of the region certain advantages
which they could hardly refrain from using. The oppressed culture is
191
reproduced in the rich countries and is capable of penetrating to the very
core of metropolitan social practices.
Among the indicators of a new vibrancy and a greater intensity in the
negotiation of the Caribbean social contract, mention must be made of the
flourishing of local languages on the political scene. This involves the
increasingly extensive use of the vehicle par excellence of national culture
and of the paradigms of oppressed groups on subject matters hitherto
reserved for the dominant languages and cultures.
In Martinique, Guadeloupe, Guiana, Saint Lucia, Dominica and Haiti,
French lexicon based Creoles are already present on the political scene. A
new style of discourse is emerging. The linguistic movement is less visible
in those countries in which an English-based Creole is spoken, but the
transformation of the political discourse has -in fact since the tirne of Eric
Williams- been no less signifícant.
The situation in the Netherlands Antilles has its own particular merits.
This country, which is not independent, is the only one in the Americas in
which a Creole language -papiamento- is used in the House of
Representatives. This is also the country in which all the official languages
of the Caribbean are spoken even by humble people.
In the Netherlands Antilles one notes then, a high degree of
democratization of public life, despite extreme political dependence. The
negotiations with the metropolitan government and the transnational
corporations, the form of federation most suited to these islands and the
temporary or definitive secession from the political entity which they
constitute indicate the presence of numerous obstacles which retard or
maybe preclude a comprehensive political expression of national unity.
There is an urgent need to undertake a study of this situation.
The difficulties faced by the Netherlands Antilles points to the existence
of a basic principle which most cultural studies tend to deal with only
superficially. National sovereignty is transformed into a State organization
when the social project which it embodies is viable.
A State emerges from a given nation when the partners -other statescan accommodate, or are forced to accommodate, its project of society.
Outside of these conditions, national sovereignty is not exercised through
the State, but by other methods -which does not question its (the State's)
actual existence.^^"^
If we regard Caribbean culture as a system of thought elaborated in the
Caribbean by its social actors then, the evolution of life-styles is partly the
result of collective decisions elaborated on the basis of the community's
own historical experience. This logical system, by definition specifici
192
maintains no relationships with other similar systems. This is the crucible
of national sovereignty which forms the basis of the State, however
embryonic it may be.
If the culture of the Caribbean is its system of knowledge, the role of
the State-of an essentially national State- is the management of this system.
It is at this juncture that the political man becomes the man of culture
envisioned by Eric Williams.
For (an) example of the relationship and the interpenetration of politics
and culture in ancient Greece, Í turn my thoughts towards Demosthenes'
attack, before the jury in Athens, on Eschine (...). It was to the man on the
street in Athens, the ordinary citizen, together melded into a single electoral
body, government and culture, that the powerful political exhortation ofZ)e
Corona was addressed.^^'^
NOTES
^ Eric Williams, Frcm Columbus to Castro, the History of the Caribbean, New York,
Vintage Books, 1984, pp. 103-104.
Op. cit., p. 393.
Marshall Wolfe, Elusive Development, United Nations Research Institute for Social
Development and Economic Commission for Latin America, 1981.
Op. cit., p. 131.
^ Bossale = recent black immigrant from Africa.
® "Adam Smith, like many of his contemporaries, was well aware of the reasons which
made it impossible to use free labour i n new colonies with an abundance of land; the workers
simply went off and became small farmers on their own account. So there is a sense in which
the structure of the situation demanded a certain kind of organization and stratification; just
as the development of factory organization in Britain created a certain kind of class system."
R.T. Smith, "Social Stratification, Cultural Pluralism and Integration in West Indian
Societies", Caribbean Integration, Papers on Social, Political, and Economic Integration,
Rio Piedras, P. R., University of Puerto Rico, Institute of Caribbean Studies, 1967,
pp. 231-232.
"We also forbid slaves belonging to different masters from congregating day or
night, under the pretext of a wedding or otherwise; either on the plantation of their
masters or elsewhere and even less on the main roads or in isolated places, under penalty
of corporal punishment." Code Noir, Article 16, cited by Cécile Celma "Eléments pour
une étude de la vie associative a la Martinique, Fin XlXé siécle, Début XXé siécle".
Thirteenth Conference of Historians of Caribbean countries, April 1981.
o
"With this we reach the heart of research into the life/meaning of the inner plantation.
Our weakness/failing as scholars is that we have been, on the whole, too (and surprisingly)
eonceTne4,with abstractions rather than with people: putting the cart before the horse. This,
I suppose, is another inheritance from the metropolis, where the 'people' spade work has
already been done as part of the steady evolution towards national identities, and where
193
colonies, except for those visitors who bothered, were little more than abstractions/producers
anyway." Edward Braithwaite, Caribbean Man in Space in Time, a Bibliographical and
Conceptual Approach, Mona, Savacou Publications, 1974, Pamphlet No. 2, p. 7.
^
' R.T. Smith, op. cit., p. 233.
^^ "To speak of Guyana coastlands at this time as being occupied by a 'Guianese
society' may be very misleading and it is suggested that we might regard each plantation as
constituting what Goffman has termed a 'total institution'", in"Social Stratification, Cultural
Pluralism and Integration in West Indian Societies" R.T. Smith, op. cit., p. 229. However,
Smith applies it only to what he calls the plantation society and expresses a number of very
explici t reservations: "In this respect Guyana is an extreme case. In the longer settled islands
such as Jamaica and Barbados, there was a more marked development of the colonial society.
The plantation model is still useful for understanding many of the features of their
organization." R.T. Smith, ibid., footnote.
" E. Braithwaite, op. cit., p. 7.
^^ "(...) The real content of culture: how people organize their experience conceptually
so that it can be transmitted as knowledge from person to person and from generation to
generation. As Goodenough advocates (...), culture 'does not consist of things, people
behavior, or emotions' but the forms or organization of these things in the minds of people
(Goodenough, 1957). The principles by which people in a culture oonstnie their world reveal
how they segregate the pertinent from the insignificant, how they code and retrieve
information, how they anticipate events (Kelly, 1955), how they define alternative courses
of actions and make decisions among them." (Charles O. Frake, "The Ethnographic Study
of Cognitive Systems", Anthropology and Human Behavior, Washington, D.C.,
Anthropological Society of Washington, 1962, p. 38.)
^^ Roger Brown, Words and Things, New York, Free Press, pp. 235-241; Roger Brown
and Eric H. Lenneberg, "A Study in Language and Cognition", Journal of Abnormal and
Social Psychology, 1954, 49(3), pp. 454-462, quoted by Charies O. Frake, op. cit., p. 30.
The Portuguese indentured labourers of Guyana and their descendants are not
considered as whites.
This assimilation isso thorough that in Haiti the expression negnwé or "nhgies noirs"
is sometimes used to refer to the Haitians themselves, while blacks from foreign countries
are referred to as whites unless the context requires a reference to their race.
^^"Creole: a person of pure white race bom in the colonies."(Z,aroi/we, 1952.) "Creole:
a native of a tropic dependency." (Webster's New Universal Dictionary^ the English
Language, 1976.) "Creole: refers to a child of European parents bom anywhere in the world;
refers to the black person born in America." (Diccionario de la Lengua Española, Real
Academia Española, 1970.)
^^ Raymond T. Smith, "Social Stratification, Cultural Pluralism and Integration in the
West Indian Societies", in Sybil Lewis and Thomas G. Matthews, ed., Caribbean
Integration, Paperson Social, Political and Economiclntegration, Third Caribbean Scholars'
Conference, Georgetown, Guyana, April 4-9,1966, Rio Piedras, University of Puerto Rico,
Institute of Caribbean Studies, 1967, p. 230.
"In monasteries, this period of induction (the seasoning) is known as 'mortification',
a word which indicates cleariy the induced state of anxiety^insecurity and humiliation which
leads to the inmate's ready acceptance of his new role as a relief from anxiety itself." R.T.
Smith, o/j. cit., p. 231.
^^ See Jean Fouchard, Les Marrons de la Liberté, Paris, Editions de I'Ecole, 1972.
194
have already (...) pointed to the inter-cultural process we call creolization and noted
the possibility of describing it in terms not of a 1:1 give and take act of gift and exchange,
resulting in a new or altered product, but as a process, resulting in subtle and multiform
orientations from or towards ancestral originals." Edward Brathwaite, Caribbean Man in
Space and Time, A Bibliographical and Conceptual Approach, Mona, Savacou Publications,
1974, Pamphlet No. 2, p. 7.
^^ For a more detailed discussion of this idea, see Jean Casimir, La Cultura Oprimida,
Mexico, Edit. Nueva Imagen, 1980, pp. 72 ff.
The concept of slave was evidently used in the documents of the period.
Contemporary literature -especially literature that dealt with the theories of acculturation
and creolization-doeslikewise. The term capft/betterconveys the idea of the circumstances
under which Africans were implanted in the New World and aptly desaibes the state of
militarization that was requited to maintain them in captivity. The English term enslaved is
even more illustrative, but seems to have no equivalent in French.
^ Under certain circumstances, the slave received a form of remuneration which should
not be confused with a wage.
"One may study this survival of cultural traits but one cannot speak of a cultural
"crossbreeding" as long as it is not proven that the direction of political and economical
affairs within the framework of a society's development had acquired the same weight as
matters of cuisine." Jean Casimir, La Cultura Oprimida, op. cit., p. 93.
^ See the various works of Woodviile K. Marshall, The Social Development of the
Windward Islands, 1738-1865, Ph.D. thesis, Cambridge University, 1963 and "Notes on
Peasant Development in the West Indies since 1863", SocialandEconomicStudies, vol. 17,
No. 3. September 1968.
See A. G. Quintero Rivera, "La música puertorriqueña y la contra-cultura
democrática: espontaneidad libertaria de la herencia cimarrona". Paper presented at the
sixteenth Latin American Congress of Sociology, Rio de Janeiro, 2 to 7 March 1986, mi meo,
subject to revision, pp. 15 ff.
^^ See Manuel Moreno Fraginals: "Plantations in the Caribbean: Cuba, Puerto Rico and
the Dominican Republic in the Late Nineteenth Century", pp. 17 and 18; see also Rebecca
J. Scott: "Explaining Abolition: Contradiction, Adaptation and Challenge in Cuban Slave
Society, 1860-1886", p. 31, In Between Slavery and Free Labor: The Spanish-Speaking
Caribbean in the Nineteenth Century, edited by Manuel Moreno Fraginals, Frank Moya
Pons, and Stanley L. Engerman. Baltimore, The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1985.
In fact, the European and African inhabitants of the Caribbean were initiated into an
autonomous social life by the Amerindians of the region, a fact which is often overlooked.
^ "The Creole complex has its historical base in slavery, plantation systems, and
colonialism. Its cultural composition mirrors its racial mixture. European and African
elements predominate in fairly standard combinations and relationships. The ideal forms of
institutional life, such as government, religion, family and kinship, law, property, education,
economy and language are of European derivation; in consequence, differing metropolitan
affiliation produce differing versions of creóle culture. But in their creóle contexts, these
institutional forms diverge from their metropolitan models in greater or lesser degree to fit
local conditions." M. G. Smith, The Plurdl Society in the British West Indies, Los Angeles,
University of California Press, 1965, p. 5.
^ George L. Beckford, Persistent Poverty, Underdevelopment in Plantation
Economies of the Third World, New York, Oxford University Press, 1972, p. 96.
195
^^ West india Royal Commission Report, presented by the Secretary of State for the
Colonies, London, His Majesty's Stationery Office, July 1945 (paras. 1 and 2, p. 29).
Referred to hereinafter as the Report of the Moyne Commission.
^^ Martin F. Murphy, "The History and Process of Haitian Migration to the Dominican
Sugar Industry: Modern Day Slavery or Superexploitation", Paper presented to the
Conference on Migration and Culture Contacts in the Caribbean, University of the West
Indies, Cave Hill, Barbados, 4 to 7 April 1984. Version subject to revision, which we quote
with the kind consent of the author.
^^ Peter Fraser, "The Fictive Peasantry: Caribbean Rural Groups in the Nineteenth
Century", in Susan Craig, ed.. Contemporary Caribbean, A Sociological Reader, Trinidad
and Tobago, the College Press, 1981, p. 328.
^ The historian notes that the factory owners made available a portion of their land to
"their workers", that is to say, to farmers who shared the produce of their farms with the
factory owners. "This system of tenant farming was similar to that of sharecropping in which
the farmer paid the factory owner or the lessor for the use of the land in the form of cane and
through the moral obligation to work for a certain number of days on the estate." Cécile
Celma, "Le Mouvement ouvrier aux Antilles de la Premiére Guerre Mondiale á 1939", in
HistorialAntillais, Fort de France, Tome V.
The French word engagés was used in the onginal text to mean indentured labourers.
^ Walter Rodney, A History of the Guianese Working People, 1881-1905, Kingston,
Heinemann Educational Books, 1981, p. 34.
W.K. Marshall, The Social and Economic Development of the Windward Islands,
1838-1865, doctoral thesis. University of Cambridge, 1963, p. 69.
^ Saint Luda, Report of the Commission of Enquiry into the Stoppage c^Work at the
Sugar Factories inMarch 1952, and into the Adequacy ofExisting Wage-Fixing Machinery
in that Colony, Castries, 1952, para. 78, p. 22. This document will be referred to as the
Malone Commission Report throughout this study.
^ Several quotations used in the present work expose the misconception.
West India Royal Commission Report, op. cit., chapter 10, paras. 7-8, pp. 192-193.
M. F. Murphy, op. cit., p. 38.
International market forces obliged the planter to modernize his production process.
See, for example, the case of British Guiana plantations documented by W. Rodney, op. cit.,
p. 23 and ff. This was in no way incompatible with the archaic piece work system as the
same writer pointed out, op. cit., p. 43. This difference led to the modernization of the
industrial sector as opposed to the agricultural sector. See Manuel Moreno Fraginals,
"Plantations in the Caribbean: Cuba, Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic in the Late
Nineteenth Century", in Manuel Moreno Fraginals, et al. Between Slavery and Free Labor,
the Spanish-Speaking Caribbean in the Nineteenth Century, Baltimore, The Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1985, p. 5.
^^ "In the case of G & W's Central Romana the company presently employs labor
contractors in both the Dominican Republic and Haiti to recruit temporary workers primarily
along Haiti's southeastern peninsula and upon arrival these G and W contracted laborers are
registered with the Dirección General de Migración. The recruitment and processing
systems are quite similar to those of the Consejo Estatal del Azúcar, but with the important
difference that Gulf and Western only legally employs the labor contractors and not the
braceros. Although the braceros are paid directly by the company and are housed in
196
company barracks, they are not employees of G & W, rather employees of the labor
contractors." Martin F. Murphy, op. cit., p. 17.
^ Cécile Celma, op. cit., p. 181.
^^ "Workers of all categories were subjected to increased rates of exploitation by the
simple device of increasing the size of the tasks. Workers had no say in appraising a task.
Whether or not a task was successfully completed was a matter left to the discretion of the
overseer. If he was not satisfied, he withheld or 'stopped' the pay of the worker in question.
Among old workers who have survived one or other of the forms of estate employment, no
grievance was expressed as universally or as feelingly as that of the 'stopping' of their
expected weekly earnings when they approached the estate pay table." W. Rodney, op. cit.,
p. 58. Indentured labourers suffered enormously from this ability of the planter to manoeuvre
the leiijgth of the work day. Ibid., p. 42.
Cécile Celma, op. cit., p. 199.
^^ "Once again, we note that women were worse off. Proof of this were the meagre
wages paid to them, particularly to the binders (...). Women therefore had no hesitation in
setting their children to work in order to make ends meet, a practice in which they were
encouraged by their bosses, employers or other authorities. Children were therefore most
often employed in large-scale farming, in the cane fields, in the factory, at the scales for
weighing the cane and at the furnace. (...) Children were thus also a link in the chain and
helped to procure the vital minimum wherewithal for the family's subsistence." Cécile
Celma, op. cit., p. 185
L. Comitas, "Occupational Multiplicity in Rural Jamaica (1964)", in Work and
Family Life West Indian Perspectives, L. Comitas and D. Lowenthal, ed.. Anchor
Picss/Doubleday, 1973, pp. 163-164.
"The situation described (...) for the Haitian worker in the Dominican sugar industry
does not provide for those most basic requirements for human survival nor reproduction.
Indirect (recruitment, housing and medical services) and direct (salaries paid) costs for
contemporary employers of these Haitian workers are relatively minimal. The individual
laborer and his potential replacements through sexual reproduction under this system are
provided at the most minimal cost by the Haitian economy." Martin F. Murphy, op. cit.,
pp. 40-41.
^ Refer to note 72 below.
^^ In fact these were often associations of exporters who call themselves producers.
^^ The Malone Commission Report, op. cit., p. 43.
^^ "It seems to the Commission that the attitude of the employers to their staff is best
illustrated by their records of employees' earnings. There are no person records of earnings
or time worked -the records are cost items debited under particular work heads. This is not
to say that the employees were treated harshly or unkindly; we received many tributes from
employees as to the kindness of individuals on the managerial staff. But the employees were
not treated as people with a real and vital stake in the sugar industry: they were 'cost items',
even if incalculable 'cost items'. In the opinion of the Commission such an attitude is most
undesirable and even dangerous in the world to-day (1950's)." The Malone Commission
Report, op. cit., para. 60, p. 17.
^^ Testimony recorded by the Malone Commission, op. cit., p. 43.
^^ In Guiana, village labour was different from the work of the indentured labourers or
of the former indentured labourers living on the plantation.
^ W. Rodney, op. cit., p. 43.
197
Testimony recorded by the Malone Conumssion, op. cit., para. 18, p. 7.
"When compared with other territories using indentured labor, British Guiana was
also the worst offender with regard to the use of the criminal courts to enforce the rights of
employers against the laborers. (...) There were exceptional instances when justice was on
the side of the immigrants and when court ofTicials felt obliged to disassociate themselves
from the general position taken within the legal system. (...) Managers and overseers
criticized him (Magistrate Hastings Huggings) for unduly lenient sentences sudi as
one-dollar fine and 72 cents costs, with an alternative of seven days imprisonment for the
offence of one day's absence from work. Huggings explained that this was serious
punishment, because an able-bodied male indentured laborer seldom earned more than the
minimum statutory payment of 24 cents per day. Therefore, the fine plus costs (totalling
$ 1 . 7 ^ constituted the exaction of seven days of unpaid labor." W. Rodney, qp. cit., p. 41.
• ' Saint Lucia, Report of the Commission Appointed by His Excellency the Governor
to Investigate the Causes of the Stoppage of Work in the Sugar Industry During March and
April 1957, the Wage Structure, the Terms andConditions ofEmployment and other Matters
Relating to All the Foregoing in the Industry in Saint Lucia, Castries, para. 13, p. 5. This
report shall be referred to as the Report of the Jackson Commission.
^^ Report of the Malone Commission, op. cit., para. 18, p. 7.
This subject is dealt with in various studies which have been quoted in this work.
See also Richard Hart, "Trade Unionism in the English-Speaking Caribbean: The Formative
Years and the Caribbean Labour Congress", in Susan Craig, ed., op. cit., pp. 59-96.
^^ Report of the Malone Commission, op. cit., para. 26, p. 8.
Testimony contained in the Report of the Malone Commission, op. cit., para. 55,
p. 16.
^ The following has been written with respect to Jamaica: "The same peasants as wage
labourers established in the 1930s a tradition oí militancy which gave birth to the trades
union movement party system." Terry Lacey, Violence and Politics in Jamaica 1960-70,
Frank Cass and Co., 1977, p. 24.
"While many contracted labourers came from Europe and Afri ca, the bulk of the new
migrants came from Asia; in all, over 135 000 Chinese, nearly half a million Indians, and
more than 33 000 Javanese reached the Caribbean area." Sidney W. Mintz, "Caribbean
Nationhood in Anthropological Peri^ctive", in Caribbean Integration, Papers on Social,
Political andEconomic Integration, Ed. Sybil Lewis and Thomas G. Matthews, RioFiedras,
University of Puerto Rico, 1967 (Third Caribbean Scholars' Conference, Georgetown,
Guyana, April 4-9,1966), p. 151.
Manuel Moreno Fraginals, op. cit., p. 8.
"Land (...) is not essentially a capital. It is bought and sold according to budgetary
management requirements and accordi ng to needs rather than as a capital investment." André
Caten, Port au Sucre, Prolétariat et prolétarisations, Haiti et République Dominicaine,
Qudiec, Les Editions du Cidihca, 1986, p. 101.
®® Walter Rodney, op. cit., p. 199.
Roberto Cassá, "Acerca del surgimiento de relaciones capitalistas de producción en
la República Dominicana", Master's thesis. Autonomous University of Santo Domingo,
mimeo, quoted by l a s Duarte, in Cegtitalismo y Superpoblación en Santo Domingo, Santo
Domingo, Codia, 1980, p. 129.
™ "However, as a general tendency, the anba fil tend to be able to defend and provide
for themselves better than the braceros simply through their experience in manipulating the
198
existing systemsin the hateyes&ná the canefields. In mosteases, and espedally in the Eastern
region, they secure slightly better housing; although they are, a^ all resident of the bateyes,
without potable water and adequate sanitary facilities, and subject to sugar industry's brand
of suTCrexploitation." Martin F. Murphy, op. cit., p. 31.
'
^ "The Creole cultural and social organization was a graduated hierarchy of European
and African elements crudely visualized in a white black colour scale. To participate
adequately in this system, immigrants (referring to the East Indians basically) had to leam
the elements of creóle life. The degree to which they adopted European cultural forms set
the upper limits of their place in the social hierarchy." Donald Winford, "'Creole' Culture
and Language in Trinidad: A Sodo-Historical Sketch", Caribbean Studies, vol. 15, No. 3,
p. 32.
André Corten, op. cit., pp. 105 and 107.
Martin F. Murphy, op. cit., p. 40.
^^ In Saint Lucia, it is established that w a ^ remained the same between 1840 and
1930. See C. Jesse, Outlines of St. Lucia's History, second edition, St. Lucia, The St. Luda
Archaeological and Historical Society, 1964, p. 44.
'•"""The movement out of the Caribbean during this 1885-1920 period was considerable.
It is estimated that there was a net population loss to the English Speaking Caribbean of 130
000 during this period, the majority being from Jamaica and Barbados. As a result, with the
exception of Jamaica and Trinidad, all of the islands experienced not only declines in the
number of males of working age, but actual declines in total population as well. The
following statistics give an idea of the size of the movements. Between 1902 and 1932,121
000 Jamaicans travelled to Cuba to work in the cane fields. This movement ended in the
1930s with violence and forced repatriation. Between 1904 and 1914 about 60 000
Barbadians left their island for Panama. Estimates of the numbers of West Indians who
migrated to the United States during this period vary, but none are less than 46 000; although
one estimate for the number of Jamaicans alone who migrated to the United States at this
time reaches 44 000." Dawn I. Marshall, "The History of Caribbean Migration, The Case of
the West Indies", Caribbean Review, 1982, vol. XI, No. 1, p. 8.
See Strategy for the Caribbean Countries during the Third Development Decade,
United Nations, ECLACOffice for the Caribbean, Caribbean Development and Co-operation
Committee, E/CEPAL/CDCC/61/Rev.l, September 1980.
' ' Cf. Jean Casimir, "Main Challenges to Social Development in the Caribbean",
CEPAL Review, United Nations, April 1981, pp. 129-148.
When the economies of Singapore, Hong Kong, Taiwan and Korea are held up as
models to be copied by the Caribbean, certain fundamental characteristics are leñ out. See
Femando Fajnzylber, La Industrialización Trunctrde América Latina, Mexico, Nueva
Imagen, 1983, espedally chapter II, pp. 103-146; also Raúl Trajtenberg, "Transnacionales
y Fuerzas de Trabajo en la Periferia: Tendencias Redentes en la Intemadonalización de la
Producción" in Femando Fajnzylber, ed.. Industrialización e Internacionalización en
América Latina, Mexico, Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1981, pp. 103-140.
This condusion is perfectly valid because the case of the Caribbean is quite different
from that of the Asian countries."(...) It is interesting to note that, in the case of Korea, (...)
protectionist measures favour the agricul tural sector, and such measures have been increased
over the past decade. In 1968 the nominal protection granted the agricultural sector was 17%
as against 12% to the manufacturing sector. By 1978, however, this figure had risen to 55%
for the agricultural sector and had declined to 10% for the manufacturing sectOT. This
199
progression reflects the importance which has been given, as in Japan, to food
self-sufficiency for the main items of domestic consumption." Femando Fajnzylber, La
Industrialización Trunca, op. cit., pp. 118 and 122.
"In the countries which received investments of this kind, the workers earned more
than they would have, all things being equal, in their regular jobs. However, this phenomenon
should be placed in proper perspective, i.e., at the world level, where the transnational
companies make decisions as to their operations and systematically attempt to replace
workers with a cheaper labour force." Raúl Trajtenberg, op. cit., p. 195.
S.W. Mintz, op. cit., pp. 150-151.
Several colonial commissions of inquiry have requested official development
assistance for the peasantry in vain.
See Jean Casimir, La Cultura Oprimida, Mexico, Nueva Imagen, 1981, diapter IV
or "Estudio de Caso: Respuesta a los Problemas de la Esclavitud y de la Colonización en
Haití", in Manuel Moreno Fraginals, ed., Africa en América Latina, Mexico, Siglo XXI,
1977^hapterXVII.
A.G. Quintero Rivera, "La Música Puertorriqueña y la Contra-cultura Democrática;
Espontaneidad Libertaria de la Herencia Cimarrona". Paper presented at the Sixteenth Latin
American Congress on Sociology, Rio de Janeiro, 2-7 March 1986, mimeographed
document, subject to changes, pp. 20-21.
^^Ibid.
Ofi
G.CoTvington,Port-au-PrinceaucoursdesAns,
laMétropoleHáitienneduXIXéme
Siécle, 1804-1888, Port-au-Prince, H. Deschamps, 1974. Juan Bosch, Composición Social
Dominicana, Historia e Interpretación, Santo Domingo, Alfa y Omega, 1978.
It is noteworthy that for very short periods, French administrations were
superimposed on English plantocracies as in Dominica, for;example.
^ The history of religions in Trinidad is much more varied, both because of the heavy
migration of Asian indentured labourers and the arrival of i mmigranls from the neighbouring
islands.
80
See E. Williams, Capitalism and Slavery, The University of North Carolina Press,
1944, and Lloyd Best, "Outline of a Model of Pure Plantation Economy", Social and
Economic Studies, University of the West Indies, No. 3, September 1968.
^ G. Beckford and M. Witter, Small Garden... Bitter Weed, Morant Bay, Ja., Maroon
Publishing House, 1982, p.53.
^
^^ Dawn I. Marshall, "The History of Caribbean Migrations, the Case of the West
Indies", op. cit.
92
Intellectuals and governments instinctively understand that the Caribbean is a
region which has a culture that defines it as such. Therefore, they think that they can
control the evolution of the region and its culture. However, no systematic studies have
been done on the origins of the Caribbean culture and region, and it is hardly surprising
that regional policies have been unable to define common objectives that can be broken
down into prioritized phases to be completed at specific future dates.
93
Saint Lucia at Independence, Saint Lucia: Voice Press, 1979, p. 10.
^"^L. Honychurch, The Dominican Story, Letchworth Press Ltd., Barbados, 1975, p. 28.
J. Boromé, "The French and Dominica before 1699-1763". Aspects of Dominican
History. Government Printery, Roseau, 1972, p. 81.
^ "Even before the European occupation of the island, Negro slaves had escaped to
Dominica or been captured by the Caribs from settlements on other isl ands. When the French
200
arrived, there were already a few Maroons living in Carib villages or in their own settlements
in the forest." L. Honychurch, The Dominican Story, op. at., p. 53.
^ J. Boromé, "The Frendi and Dominica, 1699-1763", op.cit., p. 84.
"Most of the small farmers in Dominica before 1740 did not and could not afford
many extra laborers. Their holdings were worked by family and friends paid in kind. Apart
from limited supplies of coffee, cotton, cocoa and tobacco, their main cash crop was ground
proviaons for feeding slaves in the larger French islands of Martinique and Guadeloupe.
These islands also provided Dominica with a trade in timber needed for building ships, carts,
gun carriages, mills, houses." L. Honychurch, op. cit., p. 26.
^ T. Atwood's analyses of the behaviour of English planters after 1763 concluded that:
"Many negroes so purcáiased fiom the Jesuits, either frcm their attadiments to them, or
dislike of their new masters, soon after betook themselves to the woods with their wives and
children, where they were joined from time to time by others from different estates. When
the English arrived, the captive population was leading a normal family life and was
reproducing demographically. It totalled 5 872 souls, of which 2113, or over one third, were
children." J. Boromé, op. cit., p. 94.
J. Boromé, op. cit., p. 82.
Land is the next important thing after God.
^^ Michael Sleeman, "The Agri-Business Bourgeoisie of Bart)ados and Martinique",
in P. I. Gomes, ed.. Rural Development in the Caribbean, London, C. Hurst & Co., 1985,
pp. 15-33.
The above-mentioned events occurred simultaneously. Their order of precedence
is logical and not situated in time.
The question to be posed concerning these Spanish-speaking territories is not
why a Creole has not been reported, but rather what the conditions were that caused the
relatively intense linguistic assimilation of Africans to a Hispanic norm. Indeed, the same
question is to be posed in relation to English-speaking Barbados, where we find a
nonstandard dialect of English whose relationship with its European ancestor is somewhat
analogous to that between Spanish and the nonstandard dialect of Cuba, the Dominican
Republic and Puerto Rico. Reconstructions of historically antecedent forms and documents
of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries confirm a Creole language for Barbados, which
has now developed into a nonstandard English dialect under the strong culture-assimilatory
conditions existing in that island. In fact, Barbados, like Cuba and the Dominican Republic,
and to a lesser extent Puerto Rico, experienced the unbroken and relatively intense presence
of only one European nationality throughout its colonial history. Mervyn C. Alleyne, A
Linguistic Perspective on the Caribbean, Washington, D.C., The Woodrow Wilson
International Center for Scholars, 1985, p. 5.
The comments on Caribbean languages that appear in this paragraph and the next
have been borrowed from an unpublished paper which the author wrote jointly with Dr.
Lawrence D. Carrington, Faculty of Education, St. Augustine, University of the West Indies.
F. L. Prudent, Des baragoums á la langue antillmse: analyse Hstorique et
sociolinguistique du discours sur le créale, Paris, Ed. Caribéennes, 1980. Jean Bernabé,
"Allocution", B«/feft/» de la CSTM, No. 1, Martinique, undated.
In the Dutch colonies, the dominantOTofficial language was unable to absorb the
vernacular or Creole because the latter did not have any lexical ties with it.
IftR
^ D. Winford, "Creole Culture and Language in Trinidad: a Socio-Historical Sketch",
Caribbean Studies, vol. 15, No. 3, pp. 31-56.
201
B. J. Yankey, A Stu^ of the Situation in Agriculture and the Problems of Small
Scale Farming in Domimca. PhD. thesis, University of Wisconsin, p. 219.
In the case of Saint Luda, such publications include: a) R. A. Foreman, Land
Settlement Scheme in St. Lucia, based on a Survey of the Agricultural Land and Social
Conditions of the Island. Saint Luda, Government Printing OfBce, 1955, p. 12; b) HJ.
Finkel, "Patterns of Land Tenure in the Leeward and Windward Islands and their Relevance
to the Problems of Agricultural Developnient in the West Indies", in Peoples and Cultures
of the Caribbean, Ed. Horowitz, p. 299; c) D. C. Emerson Mathurin, "An Unfavorable
System of Land Tenure: The Case of St. Luda", in Proceedings of the Second West Indian
Agricultural Conference, University of the West Indies, 1967, p. 36; d) R. S. Romalis,
"The Rural Entrepreneur and Economic Envelopment: The Case of St. Luda", mCaribbean
Anthropology, Ed. F. Henry, Occasional Paper Series, No. 5, Montreal, McGill University,
1969, p. 95.
W. A. Lewis, "The Evolution of the Peasantry in the British West Indies"; Colonial
Office Pamj^let, No. 656,1936.
^^^ Weirs Consulting Services Limited. Small Farming Study in the Lesser Developed
Member Territories ofthe Caribbean, vol. 1(a), Country Reports. Prepared for the Caribbean
Envelopment Bank, 1976, p. 9.
Yankey, qp.cti.
D.C. Emerson Mathurin, op. cit., p. 4. See also R.S. Romalis, op. cit., p. 95 and
Small Farming Study (CDB), op. cit., p. 6.
NJ.O. Liverpool, The History and Development of the St. Lucia Civil Code.
Barbados: I.S.E.R., University of the West Indies, 1977, p. 8.
See Edith Clarke, "Land Tenure and the Family in four Communities in Jamaica",
in Social and Economic Studies, vol. 1, No. 4, August 1953, pp. 8 1 - l l f t and Serge Larose,
"The Haitian Lakou, Land, Family and Ritual", in René Romer (Co-publication of the
Institute of Higher Studies in Cura9áo, Netherlands Antilles, and the Department of
Caribbean Studies of the Royal Institute of Linguistic and Anthropology at Leiden,
Netherlands), 1975.
E. Clarke, op. cit., pp. 82 and 83.
^ ^*There are also other formsof land ownership. They illustrate other survival strategies
without detracting from the originality and primacy of the system of indivisible collective
ownership. Clarke distinguishes between "purchased lands" and inherited lands which are
not "family lands", i .e., which are not bequeathed to a family group but to one or two persons.
Serge Larose, op. cit., p. 482.
^^ Ibid., p. 485.
121
'
Ema Brodber, Study of Yards in the City of Kingston, Mona, Jamaica, University
of the West Indies, Institute of Sodal and Economic Research, Working Papers, No. 9.
^^ In Creole: lakou légliz, lakou légliz Bedsvard, lakou ben-yen, lakou vodou.
124
W. K. Marshall, "Notes on Peasant Development in the West Indies since 1838",
Social and Economic Studies, vol. 17, No. 3, September 1968, p. 260.
^^ W.K. Marshall, ibid., p. 260, our emphasis.
^^Doagld&UaiUFiveoftheLeewards, i^J-Z-iSTt?, Caribbean Universities Press, 1971,
pp. 14-15.
127
"It is not easy to get people in Dominica to work regulariy on estates; at Portsmouth
an attempt was made to get some land into cultivation rapidly, this had to be abandoned
202
owing to the irregularity of the labour supply, they could get 100 men one week and the next
week very few could come; the people are not pressed to work by necessity; they complain
of want of wages, but will not work regularly when wages are offered." Repot of the Royal
Commission of 1897, para. 541, our emphasis.
^^ Evidence presented to the 1897 Royal Commissicm of the West Indies by a priest
who had lived for nearly 20 years in Dominica. See para. 538 of the Commission's report.
In 1967, in a country where everyone could make him/herself understood in Qede, Üie
law that granted banana monopoly to the Saint Luda Banana Association stipulated that except
forreasonsof blindness or other physical disabilities, those who could not read ex write En^ish
could not partidpate in the dedsions of the Assodation. Hiere are many such exan^es.
^^ André Corten, Port au Sucre, op. cit., pp. 102-103.
^^^ Sidney Mintz, op. cit., p. 42.
"The West Indian landed interest has been made the victim of selfishness of the
British public and of the fiscal policy of the British Government." Report of the West India
Royal Commission, London, H.M. Stationery Office, 1897, appendix C, part IX, Dominica,
para. 514.
'''ibid.
The Sugar Crisis as a Menace to the West Indies, speech delivered before the Royal
Empire Society by the Rt. HOT. Lord Olivier, London, The Royal Empire Sodety, April
1830, pp. 8,14 and 15.
"^/fe/d., para. 514.
^^ The reason why the plantations of Barbados and Martinique managed to go through
the nineteenth century with fewer problems than the other territories of the regioi, argues
Michael Sleeman, is that local trade managed to finance productive activities in return for
mortgages on the products cultivated, to capitalize and reinvest a greater proportion of their
profits. Michael SUeeman, op. cit., particularly page 17, note 4, and pp. 23 and 24.
See chapter 3, note 24.
^^ It is sometimes stated that things could not have been otherwise given the small
volumes marketed by the Caribbean. The argument^would hdd if during the eighteenth
century the enormous quantities of sugar producedl^ the regioi had not been distributed
throu^ the same channels gr if tiny Domi nica had not been, towards the end of the nineteenth
century, the world's largest lemon producer.
^^ George Bedcford and Michael Witter, Small Garden...Bitter Weed, Struggle and
Change in Jamaica, London, Zed Press, 1980, pp. 50-52.
'*'^C&r{QexiO'lj!M^\\n,EconomicatuiPoUticalChcmgeintheLeewardandWindward
Islands, London, University Press, 1968, p. 45.
It is sometimes pdnted out that "the agrarian issue", which is central to the recent
historical evolution of Latin America, is conspicuously absent in the Caribbean landscape.
This opinion is irrelevant. See Jean Casimir, La Cultura Oprimida, op. cit., p. 274. As a
sodal category, the captives and freedmen of the Caribbean have never been dispossessed
of their land. They did not fight for what they had never had. The Caribbean revdutions
were carried out under the dogan of "Freedom or Death" and not of "Land and Liberty".
"^"In 1925, the striking feature in agriculture was the relatively large number of small
scale farmers which existed. (...) There is clear evidence here that the majority of farmers
by then were operating on small acreages of land. The prindpal crops of small scale
agriculture during the period 1900-1950 were mainly domestic food crops as against export
cash crops in the case of estates, the principal of which was lime." Yankey, op. cit., p, 100.
203
Report cfthe Commission of Enquiry into the Conduct of the Operations of the
BoardofManagement ofthe DominicaBananaAssociation, August 1958, mimeo. Appendix
2, p. 1
Milton Cato diaired the Commission).
^Memorandum and Articles of the Association of the Smnt Lucia Banana Growers'
Association Limited, mimeo, paragraph 66, Prests, p. 18.
Saint Uicia Banana Growers' Assodatioo Act 1967. Preamble.
^^ Saint Luda government. Inquiry into the Banana Industry; Interim Report, June
1980, chapter in.
11-12.
148 Caribbean Development Bank, Small Farming Study, op. cit., p. 47.
149 J A.N. Butra, Report on Land Administration in Dominica, mimeo, p. 26.
150 Yankey, op. cit., p. 31.
151 Agricultural Diversification in a Small Economy: The Case ofDominica. Institute
of Social and Economic Researdi, Cave Hill, Barbados, 1979, p. 19.
1 5 2 p p . 215 and 216.
153 J.M. Marie Op. cü., p. 44.
154 Op. cit., p. 38.
155 "This failure has had a demoralising effect on the affected growers and generated
lack of confidence among the farmersin the ability of the Association to handle the industry."
Government of Dominica, An Evaluation Report of the Dominica Banana Industry, 1981,
mimeo, p. 8.
156 Caribbean Development Bank, Small Farming Study, op. cit., pp. 42-43.
157A« Evaluation Report oftheDominicaBananalndustry, Government of Dominica,
1981, mimeo, pp. 34 and 61.
158 As occurred in the case of sugar producers. See Sleeman, op. cit., p. 17, note 4. To
avoid a recurrence of that situation in the case of bananas, agreements were signed with the
metro^is.
The Laws of Dominica in force on the 31st Day of December, 1961. Chapter 75,
Banai^ part II, art. 3 (1).
^^^ J.B. Yankey, ibid., p. 51.
S. St. A. Clarke, "Production of food for consumption and export: the need to
achieve optimal balance", ECLAC, CDCC/PWG: A/83/1, October 1983.
Caribbean Development Bank, Small Farming Study, p. 32.
^^^ The Milton Cato Report, op. cit., p. 3.
^^ The Evaluation Report, op. cit., p. 19.
^^^Ibid., p. 21.
In the sector where mercantilism was strongest -the coffee sector- the very special
conditions under which the product was stored (coffee may be stocked for several months
before it is sold) favoured the establishment of barter relations rather than mercantile
exchange. On the one hand, the peasant stocked coffee until he needed to buy a specific
commodity, and since the local trader was oñen the purchaser of coffee (the "speculator"),
trade in kind took place. On the other hand, the loans that the small farmer was forced to
take made him lose control over the marketing of a substantial portion of his production,
since he agreed to sell his product at a pre-established price to his lender. André Corten,
op. cit., p. 100.
Eric Williams, inPrésenceAíricaine{2A-25), February-May 1959, p. 90. (Congress
of Black Writers and Artists, Rome 26-March-l April 1959.)
204
^^ Ibid., p. 99.
Ibid., p. 101.
Ibid., p. 102.
"W.p.102.
Jean Price-Mars, Ainsi paria I'oncle, Essais d'Ethnographie, New York,
Parap^chdogy Foundation Inc., 1954 (first edition, 1928).
^^ Our italics. Price-Mars refers to folklore as the genius of the peofde. Ibid., p. i.
"The most important difference between the West Indies and Africa or India in
their nationalist struggle is that there is no indigenous language in the West Indies. The
language of the imperial Power has become the mother tongue -4n other words English in
Trinidad; French in Guadeloupe and Haiti; Spanish in Cuba or Puerto Rico; Dutch in
Cura5§o and Suriname. But since the process began in the days of slavery, these imperial
languages were bastardized to the point where they became in each territory what is known
as a sort of local patois, or Creole as it is sometimes called (...). While Creole is the lingua
franca of each of these territories of the West Indies, because of the very nature of the West
Indies, there is no Creole language of the West Indies. A two-fold problem arises here:
there is no rallying point for the nationalist movement in each territory, and the absence of
a common language is a barrier not only to contact and communication among the islands
(...) but also to closer co-operation, at the cultural level, among all the tenitories of the
West Indies." Op. cit., p. 99.
"J Op. «V., pp. 16-17.
Jean Ptice-Mars.Jetm-PierreBoyerBazelais
et le Drame de Miragoáne (A propos
d'm lot d'autographes) 1883-1884, Port-au-Prince, State Printety, 1948, pp. 22-23.
"The homeland of the Creole (...) was not at all the same for the Indian. (...) The
Indian was part and parcel of the land that had been conquered. And in the Crede's
perception of the legacy inherited from his predecessors, i.e., 'what we enjoy today', the
Indian istiiereas something that existed, together with the land and existed to work the land."
Severo Martínez Pelaez, La Patria del Criollo, Costa Rica, EDUCA, 1979, 5th editicm
pp. 254-5.
178
Jean Casimir, "El Caribe: la Estructura Social Incompleta", Pensamiento
Iberoamericano, My-DfxewbeT 1984, No. 6, pp. 171-183.
^^^ The problem still exists today: "(...) The older challenges of giving form and
substance to what is o-eated out of the experience and activity of all the people without a
feeling of inferiority in the face of the master's expression, are still tobe met." R. Nettleford,
op. cit., p. 48.
180
F.L. Prudent, Des baragouins á la langue antillaise. Analyse historique et
sociolinguistique du ^scours sur le créole. Paris, Ed. Caribéennes, 1980, pp. 124-125.
Indeed, it would be interesting to study the use of the vernacular by the new
recruits of the dominant groups in the Caribbean, as a rite of passage and of initiation
into adult life. The vernacular -the language of the nation- in its relarions with the
dominant language, is seen as the path of disobedience, of individual initiatives, of
freedom discussed with friends and controlled by them.
E. Braithwaite, op. cit., p. 6.
1 o^
Jean Casimir, "Cultura oprimida y creación intelectutí". Symposium on Culture
and Intellectual Creativity in Latin America, organized by the United Nations University
and the National Autonomous University of Mexico, April 1979 (CEPAL/CARIB/Int 79/2
Rev.l), mimeo.
205
2000
Nettleford notes both: the existence of a generalized inferiority complex (op. cit.,
p. 140) and quite the opposite attitude among the Rastafarians. {Ibid, pp. 187-188.)
Note that the colonial period of Caribbean history has not yet ended.
In addition to the category of planters, as opposed to that of slaves or freedmen,
mention might be made of the Creoles, as of^xMcd to Bossales. Between the two poles of
the pair of categories "planters" and "slaves" arises that of the freedmen. Between the Creoles
and the Bossales lies the category "creolized". The concept of mulatto is evidently situated
between black and white, but it has a completely secondary racial connotation.
^^ "Social Stratification, Cultural Pluralism and Integration in the West Indian
Societies", Sybil Lewis and Thomas G. Matthews (eds.), Caribbean Integration. Papers on
Social, Political and Economic Integration, Third Caribbean Scholars' Conference,
Georgetown, Guyana, 4-9 April 1966, Rio Piedras, University of Puerto Rico, Institute of
Caribbean Studies, 1967, p. 230.
Laennec Hurbon, Culture et dictature en Haiti, I'imaginaire sous controle, Paris,
L'Harmattan, 1979, p. 27. The author reaffirms his point of view in these terms: "The
evolution of popular Haitian culture cannot be understood (...) without reference to a strategy
of struggle", op. cit., p. 44.
^ Jean Casimir, La cultura oprimida, op. cit., p. 74.
^^ The metropolitans also elaborated a theory of their own socio-economic
development. For them, the Caribbean was a group of colonies whose use varied according
to the direction given to development by the metropolitan society. For the planters, thecolony
was above all a given socio-economic system -the plantation system, preferably composed
of slave plantations-, within which they, as planters, had to reproduce thennselves. Although
the interests of the planters and the metropolitans may have coincided at one time or another,
they were not the same.
^^^ Jean fnce-Mars, Jean-Pierre Boyer Bazelais et le árame de Miragoáne (ápropos
d'un lot d'autographes) 1883-1884, op. cit., p. 21.
Jean Casimir, "Main Challenges of Social Development in the Caribbean", CEPAL
Review, No. 13, April 1981, pp. 125-142.
^^^ This is true even in the colonies where the failure of the plantation was halted by
the importation of indentured servants from Asia. See Walter Rodney, A History of the
Guyanese Working People, 1881-1905, Kingston, Heinemann Educational Books, 1981,
p. 41.
See Jean Casimir, "Limitaciones del proyecto nacional de la oligarqua mulata de
Dominica en el siglo XX", Revista de Ciencias Sociales, University of Puerto Rico, vol.
XXIII, Nos. 3-4, pp. 681-724.
195
Meaning the Creole language.
196
Study and Research Group on the Creole-speaking World, op. cit., p. 15.
19?
In this regard, Haiti and Suriname are exceptions.
See Francois Duvalier, Le probléme des classes travers I'histoire d'Ha'iti,
Port-au-Prince, 1938-, Mémoires d'un leader du tiers monde, Paris, Ed. Hachette, 1969; and
Eléméntsd'une
doctrine, Port-au-Prince, 1968.
199
Laennec Hurbon, Culture et dictature en Haiti, op. cit., p. 96.
^ Laeniiec Hurbon, ibid., p. 100.
^^ Jean Price-Mars, Ainsi parla I'oncle, Essais d'ethnographie. New York,
Parapsychology Foundation, Inc., 1954, p. 17.
202
Witness his Lettre ouverte au Dr. René Piquion, fe préjugé de couleur est-il la
question sociale?, Port-au-Prince, Les Editions des Antilles, S.A., 1967.
Edward Kamau Braithwaite, "The African Presence in Caribbean Literature",
Daedalus, Cambridge, Mass., 1974, pp. 73-109; Caribbean Man in Space and Time, a
Bibliographical and Conceptual Approach, Mona, Savacou Publications, 1974, Pamphlet
No. 2.
204
At the beginning, Negritude contested political power. In Haiti, it was born under
the American Occupation. Its relationship to power is the same in the so-called
French-speaking Caribbean.
^^ See for instance M. G. Smith The Plural Society in the British West Indies, Los
Angeles, University of California Press, 1965, p. 5.
^ Eric Williams, "Le leader politique consideré comme un homme de culture",
PrésenceAfricaine (24-25) February-May 1959, pp. 101-102. (Congress of Black Writers
and Artists, Rome, 26 March-1 April, 1959), p. 101.
^^ Rex M. Nettleford, Caribbean Cultural Identity, the Case ofJamaica, An Essay in
Cultural Dynamics, Kingston, Institute of Jamaica, 1978, p. 1.
^^ Rex Nettleford, op. cit., pp. 187 and 196.
^ Rex Nettleford, op. cit., p. 140.
Hurbon persuasively demonstrates the presence of this same vocation in
Duvalierism: "Since the solution to our tragedy is the balance between the two elites", only
a Black person, "descendant of peasants, offspring of the history of the race", but at the same
time a genuinely literate person, possessing "an adequate level of intellectual culture, can
save the country". F. Duvalier, Eléments d'une doctrine, pp. 405-408, quoted by Hurbon,
op. cit., pp. 97-98.
Rex Nettleford, op. cit., p. 196.
^^^ Rex Nettleford, op. cit., p. 83.
^^^ Rex Nettleford, op. cit., p. 78.
Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures, New York, Basic Books, Inc.,
Publishers, 1973, p. 44.
" "... The proletariat regime emerged and organized itself from the earliest moment.
(It did so) in the revolutionary and in the most elementary organizations, but obviously and
quitecleariy in the positions of power performed by the working class. (...) From the moment
that an organization acknowledged no other law but its own it granted itself some kind of
incomplete sovereignty ignoring and disobeying the enemy's sovereignty. In this manner,
a revolution would only be a transposition (of projects) from the consciousness of the people
to the actual reality, but the "proletarian regime" would have been in existence long before,
in the vanguard, when the awareness was expressing itself in thefirstpositions of power."
René Zavaleta, El Poder Dual, Problemas de la Teoría del Estado en América Latina,
Mexico Siglo XXI ed., 1977, p. 59.
^^^Eric Williams, op. cit., p. 91.
207
ECLAC
publications
ECONOMIC COMMISSION FOR U T I N AMERICA AND THE CARIBBEAN
Casilla 179-0 Santiago, Chile
PERIODIC PUBLICATIONS
C E P A L Review
CEPAL Review first appeared in 1976 as part of the Publications Programme of the Economic
Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean, its aim being to mal<e a contribution to the study
of the economic and social development problems of the region. The views expressed in signed
articles, including those by Secretariat staff members, are those of the authors and therefore do not
necessarily reflect the point of view of the Organization.
CEPAL Review is published in Spanish and English versions three times a year.
Annual subscription costs for 1992 are US$16 for the Spanish version and US$18 for the English
verston. The price of single issues is US$10 in both cases.
The cost of a two-year subscription (1992-1993) is US$30 for Spanish-language version and US$34
for English.
Estudio Económico de
América Latina y el Caribe
Economic Survey of Latin
America and the Caribbean
1980,
664 pp.
1980,
1981,
863 pp.
1981,
1982, vol.1
693 pp.
1982,
voLI
1982, vol.11
199 pp.
1982,
VOL 11
186 pp.
1983, vol.1
694 pp.
1983,
VOL!
686 pp.
1983, vol.11
179 pp.
1983,
VOL II
166 pp.
1984, vol.1
702 pp.
1984,
VOL]
685 pp.
1984, vol.11
233 pp.
1984,
VOL II
216 pp.
1985,
672 pp.
1985,
660 pp.
1986,
734 pp.
1986,
729 pp.
1987,
692 pp.
1987,
685 pp.
629 pp.
837 pp.
658 pp.
1989,
1990, vol.1
1990. vol. II
1991, vol. I
741 pp.
198B,
637 pp.
821 pp.
260 pp.
1989,
1990, vol.1
678 pp.
248 pp.
590 pp.
299 pp.
(Issues for previous years also available)
Anuario Estadístico de América Latina y el Caribe/
Statistical Yearbook (or Latin America and the Caribbean (bilingual)
1980,
617 pp
1981,
727 pp
1982/1983, 749 pp
1984,
1985,
1986,
761 pp
792 pp
782 pp
1987,
1988,
1989,
1990,
714 pp.
782 pp.
770 pp.
782 pp.
1991,
856 pp.
(Issues for previous years also available)
UbrosdelaCEPAL
I Manual de proyectos de desarrollo económico, 1958,5th. ed. 1980,264 pp.
1 Manual on economic development projects, 1958,2nd. ed. 1972,242 pp.
2
3
4
América Latina en el umbral de los años ochenta, 1979,2nd. ed. 1980,203 pp.
Agua, desarrollo y medio ambiente en América Latina, 1980,443 pp.
Los bancos transnacionales y el financiamiento externo de América Latina. La experiencia del
Perú, 1980,265 pp.
4 transnational banks and the external finance of Latin America: the experience of Peru,
1985,342 pp.
5 La dimensión ambiental en los estilos de desarrollo de América Latina, Osvaldo Suni<el, 1981,
2nd. ed. 1984,136 pp.
6
6
La mujer y el desarrollo: guía para la planificación de programas y proyectos, 1984,115 pp.
Women and development: guidelines for programme and project planning, 1982,3rd. ed.
1984,123 pp.
7
Africa y América Latina: perspectivas de la cooperación interregional, 1983,286 pp.
8
Sobrevivencia campesina en ecosistemas de altura, vols. I y II, 1983,720 pp.
9
La mujer en el sector popular urbano. América Latina y el Caribe, 1984,349 pp.
10 Avances en la interpretación ambiental del desarrollo agrícola de Miérica Latina, 1985,236pp.
11
Et decenio de la mujer en el escenario latinoamericano, 1986, 216 pp.
II
The decade for women in Latin America and the Caribbean: background and prospects,
1988,215^
12 América Latina: sistema monetario internacional y financiamiento externo, 1986,416 pp.
12 Latin America: International monetary system and external financing, 1986,405 pp.
13
Raúl Prebisch: Un aporte al estudio de su pensamiento, 1987,146 pp.
14
Cooperativismo latinoamericano: antecedentes y perspectivas, 1989,371 pp.
15
CEPAL, 40 años (1948-1988), 1988,85 pp.
15 ECLAC 40 Years (1948-1988), 1989,83 pp.
16 América Latina en la economía mundial, 1988, 321 pp.
17
Gestión para el desarrollo de cuencas de alta montaña en la zona andina, 1988,187 pp.
18 Políticas macroeconómicas y brecha externa: Amérta Latina en ts añas ochenta, 1989,
201 pp.
19 CEPAL, Bibliografía 1948-1988,1989,648 pp.
20 Desarrollo agrícola y participación campesina, 1989,404 pp.
21 Planificación y gestión del desarrollo en áreas de expansión de la frontera agropecuaria en
América Latina, 1989,113 pp.
22 Transformación ocupacional y crisis social en América Latina, 1989,243 pp.
23 La crisis urbana en América Latina y W Caribe: reflexmes sobre alternativas de solución, 19^,
197 pp.
24 The environmental dimension In development planning 1,1991,302 pp.
25 Transformación productiva con equidad, 1990,3rd. ed. 1991,185 pp.
25
26
26
27
Changing production patterns with social equity, 1990,3rd. ed. 1991,177 pp.
América Latina y el Caribe: opciones para reducir el peso de la deuda, 1990,118 pp.
Latin America and the Caribbean: optíons to reduce the debt burden, 1990,110 pp.
Los grandes cambios y la crisis. Impacto sobre la mujer en América Latina y el Caribe, 1991,
271 pp.
27 Major changes and crisis. The Impact on women In Latin America and the Caribbean,
1992, 279 pp.
28 A collection of documents on economic relations between the United States and Central
America, 1906-1956,m\, 398 pp.
29 inventarios y cuentas del patrimonio natural en América Latina y el Caribe, 1991,335pp.
30 Evaluaciones del impacto ambiental en América Latina y el Caribe, 1991,232 pp.
31 El desarrollo sustentable: transformación productiva, equidad y medio ambiente, 1991,146pp.
31 Sustainable development: changing production patterns, social equity and the
environment, 1991,146 pp.
33 Educación y conocimiento: eje de la transformación productiva con equidad, 1992, 269 pp.
MONOGRAPH SERIES
Cuadernos de la C E P A L
1 América Latina: el nuevo escenario regional y mundial/Latín America: the new regional and
world setting, (bilingual), 1975,2nd. ed. 1985,103 pp.
2
Las evoluciones regionales de la estrategia internacional del desarrollo, 1975, 2nd. ed. 1984,
73 pp.
2 Regional appraisals of the International development strategy, 1975, 2nd. ed. 1985,
82 pp.
3
Desarrollo humano, cambio social y crecimiento en América Latina, 1975, 2nd. ed. 1984,
103 pp.
4
Relaciones comerciales, crisis monetaria e integración económica en América Latina, 1975,
85 pp.
5
Sbtesisde ¡asegunda evaluación regional de la estrategia internacional del desarrollo, 1975,
72 pp.
6
Dinero de valor constante. Concepto, problemas y experiencias, Jorge Rose, 1975,2nd. ed.
1984,43 pp.
7
La coyuntura internacional y el sector externo, 1975,2nd. ed. 1983,106 pp.
8
La industrialización latinoamericana en bs años setenta, 1975, 2nd. ed. 1984,116 pp.
9
Dos estudios sobre inflación 1972-1974. La inflación en los países centrales. América Latina y
la inflación importada, 1975, 2nd. ed. 1984, 57 pp.
a/n Canada and the foreign firm, D. Pollock, 1976,43 pp.
10
11
Reactivación del mercado común centroamericano, 1976,2nd. ed. 1984,149 pp.
integración y cooperación entre países en desarrollo en el ámbito agrícola, Germánico
Salgado, 1976, 2nd, ed. 1985,62 pp.
12
Temas del nuevo orden económico internacional, 1976,2nd. ed. 1984,85 pp.
13
En tomo a
las
ideas de la CEP AL: desarrollo, industrialización y comercio exterior,
1977, 2nd ed 1985,57 pp.
14
En tomo a las ideas de la CEPAL: problemas de la industrialización en América Latina,
1977, 2nd. ed. 1984,46 pp.
15
Los recursos hidráuliajs de América Latina. Informe regional, 1977, 2nd. ed. 1984,75 pp.
15 The water resources of Latin America. Regional report, 1977, 2nd. ed. 1985,79 pp.
16
¡Desarrollo y cambio social en América La^na, 1977, 2nd. ed. 1984,59 pp.
17 Estrategia internacional de desarrollo y establecimiento de un nuevo orden económico
internacional, 1977, 3rd. ed. 1984,61 pp,
17 International development strategy and establishment of a new international economic
order, mi,
18
Raíces
3rd. ed. 1985,59 pp.
históricas de
las
estructuras distributivas de América Latina, A. di Fílíppo,
1977,2nd. ed. 1983,64 pp.
19
Dos estudios sobre endeudamiento externo, C. Massad
and
R Zahier, 1977, 2nd. ed.
1986,66 pp.
s/n United
States
-
Latin
American
trade
and
financial
relations: some
policy
recommendations, S. Weintraub, 1977,44 pp.
20
Tendencias y proyecciones a largo plazo del desarrollo económico de América Latina, 1978,
3rd,ed. 1985, 134 pp.
21
25 años en la agricultura de América Latina: rasgos principales 1950-1975,1978,2nd. ed. 1983,
124 pp.
22
Notas sobre la familia como unidad socioeconómica, Carlos A. Borsotti, 1978, 2nd. ed.
1984,60 pp.
23
La organización de la información para la evaluación del desarrollo, Juan Sourrouille, 1978,
2nd. ed. 1984, 61 pp.
24
Contabilidad nacional a precios constantes en América Latina, 1978,2nd. ed. 1983,60 pp.
a/n Energy In Latin America: The Historical Record, J. Mullen, 1978, 66 pp.
25
Ecuador: desafíos y logros de la política económica en la fase de expansión petrolera, 1979,
2nd. ed. 1984,153 pp.
26
Las transformaciones rurales en América Latina: ¿desarrollo social o marginación?, 1979,
2nd. ed. 1984,160 pp.
27
La dimensión de la pobreza en América Latina, Oscar Altimir, 1979,2nd. ed. 1983,89 pp.
28
Organización institucional para el control y manejo de la deuda externa. El caso
Meno,
Rodolfo Hoffman, 1979,35 pp.
29
La política monetaria y el ajuste de la balanza de pagos: tres estudios, 1979,2nd. ed. 1984,
61 pp.
29
Monetary policy and balance of payments adjustment: three studies, 1979,60 pp.
30
América Latina: las evaluaciones regionales de la estrategia internacional del desarrollo en los
años setenta, 1979, 2nd. ed. 1982,237 pp.
31
32
33
Educación, imágenes y estilos de desarrollo, G. Rama, 1979,2nd. ed. 1982,72 pp.
li4ovimientos internacionales de capitales, R H. Arrlazu, 1979,2nd. ed. 1984, 90 pp.
Informe sobre las inversiones directas extranjeras en América Latina, A. E. Galcagno, 1980,
2nd. ed. 1982,114 pp.
34
Las fluctuaciones de ta industria manufacturera argentina, 1950-1$78, D. Heymann, 1980,
2nd. ed. 1984, 234 pp.
35 Perspectivas de reajusta Mustrial: la Commidaú Económica Empea
y ios pases en
desarrollo, B. Evers, G. de Groot and W. Wagenmans, 1980, 2nd. ed. 1984,69 pp.
36
Un análisis sobre la posibilidad de evaluar ¡a solvencia crediticia de los países en
desarrollo, A. Saieh, 1980, 2nd. ed. 1984,82 pp.
37
Hacia los censos latinoamericanos de los años ochenta, 1981,146 pp.
a/n The economic relations of Latín America with Europe, 1980, 2nd. ed. 1983,156 pp.
38
Desarrollo regional argentino: la agricultura, J. Martin, 1981,2nd. ed. 1984,111 pp.
39
Estratificación y movilidad ocupacion^ en América Latina, C. Filgueira and C. Geneletti,
1981, 2nd. ed. 1985,162 pp.
40
Programa de acción regional para América Latina en hs años ochenta, 1981, 2nd. ed.
1984,62 pp.
40 Regional programme of action for Latin America In the 1980s, 1981,2nd. ed. 1984,57 pp.
41
El desarrollo de América Latina y sus repercusiones en la educación. Alfabetismo y escolaridad
básica, 1982,246 pp.
42 América Latina y la economía mundial del café, 1982,95 pp.
43
El ddo ganadero y la economía argentina, 1983,160 pp.
44
Las encuestas de hogares en América Latina, 1983,122 pp.
45 Las cuentas nacionales en América Latina y el Caribe, 1983,100 pp.
45 National accounts In Latin America and the Caribbean, /983,97 pp.
46
Demanda de equipos para generación, transmisión y transformación eléctrica en América
Latina, 1983,193 pp.
47
La economía de América Latina en 1982: evolución general, política cambiaría y renegociación
de la deuda extema, 1984,104 pp.
48
Pollitas de ajuste y renegociación de la deuda extema en América Latina, 1984,102 pp.
49
La economía de América Latina y el Caribe en 1983: evolución general, crisis y procesos de
ajuste, 1985,95 pp,
49 The economy of Latin America and the Caribbean In 1983: main trends, the impact of the
crisis and the adjustment processes, 1985,93 pp.
50
LaCEPAL,
encarnación de una esperanza de América Latina, Hernán Santa Cruz, 1985,
77 pp.
51
Hacia nuevas modalidades de cooperación económica entre América Latina y el Japón, 1986,
233 pp.
51 Towards new forms of economic co-operation between Latin America and Japan, 1987,
245 pp.
52
Los conceptos básicos del transporte marítimo y la situación de la actividad en América Latina,
1986,112 pp.
52 Basle concepts of maritime transport and Its present status In Latin America and the
Caribbean, 1987,114 pp.
53
Encuestas de ingresos y gastos. Conceptos y métodos en la experiencia latinoamericana. 1986,
128 pp.
54
Crisis económica y políticas de ajuste, estabilización y crecimiento, 1986,123 pp.
54 The economic crisis: Policies for adjustment, stabilization and growth, 1986,125 pp.
55
El desarrollo de América Latina y el Caribe: escollos, requisitos y opciones, 1987,184 pp.
55 Latin American and Caribbean development: obstacles, requirements and
options,
1987,184 pp.
56
Los bancos transnacionales y el endeudamiento externo en la Argentina, 1987,112 pp.
57
El proceso de desarrollo de la pequeña y mediana empresa y su papel en el sistema industrial:
el caso de Italia, 1988,112 pp.
58
La evolución de la economía de América Latina en 1986,1987,99 pp.
58 Th$ evolution of ths Lam American Economy JhiSS^ 1988,95 pp.
5S Protectionism: regional negomüon end ^@{sn69strstegl8$, 1988,261 pp.
60
industrialización en América Latina: de la "caja negra' al 'casillero vado', F. Fajnzylbor,
1989, 2nd. ed. 1990,176 pp.
eo Industrialization In Latín America: from the "Black Box" to the "Empty Box", F. Fajnzylber,
1990, 172 pp.
61
Hacia un desarrollo sostenido en América Latina y el Caribe: restricciones y requisitos. 1989,
94 pp.
61 Towards sustained development In Latin America and the Caribbean: restrictions and
requisites, 19S9,9Z pp.
62
La evolución de la economía de América Latina en 1987,1989,87 pp.
6S The evolution of the Latin American economy In 1987,1989,84 pp.
63
Elementos para el diseño de políticas industriales y tecnológicas en América Latina,
1990, 2nd. ed. 1991, 172 pp.
64
La industria de transporte regular internacional y la competitividad del comercio exterior de los
países de América Latina y el Caribe, 1989,132 pp.
64 The international common-canler transportation Industry and the competitiveness of
the foreign trade of the countries of Latin America and the Caribbean, 1989,116 pp.
65 Cambios estructurales entospuertos y la competitividad del comercio exterior de América Latina
y el Caribe, 1991,141 pp.
65 Structural Changes In Ports and the Competitiveness of Latin American and Caribbean
Foreign Trade, 1990,126 pp.
67
La transferencia de recursos externos de América Latina en la posguena, 1991, 92 pp.
67 Postwar transfer of resources abroad by Latin America, 1992,90 pp.
68
La reestructuración de empresas públicas: el caso de los puertos de Amérta Latina y el Caribe,
1992,148 pp.
SS The restructuring of public-sector enterprises: the case of Latin American and Caribbean
sorts, 1992,129 pp.
Cuadernos Esiadísticos de la C E P A L
1
2
América Latina: relación de precios del intercambio, 1976, 2nd. ed., 1984,66 pp.
Indicadores del desarrollo económico y social en América Latina, 1976,2nd. ed. 1984,179 pp.
3
4
Series históricas del crecimiento de América Latina, 1978, 2nd. ed. 1984,206 pp.
Estadísticas sobre la estructura del gasto de consumo de los hogares según finalidad del gasto,
por,grupos de ingreso, 1978,110 pp. (Out of print; replaced by No. 8 below)
5
6
Él balance de pagos de América Latina, Í950-J977,1979, 2nd. ed. 1984,164 pp.
Distribución regional del producto interno bruto sectorial en los países de América Latina, 1981,
2nd. ed. 1985,68 pp.
7 Tablas de insumo-producto en América Latina, 1983,383 pp.
8
Estructura del gasto de consumo de los hogares según finalidad del gasto, por grupos de
/ngreso, 1984,146 pp.
9
Origen y destino del comercio exterior de los países de la Asociación Latinoamericana de
Integración y del Mercado Común Centroamericano, 1985,546 pp.
10 América Latina: balance de pagos, 1950-1984,1986,357 pp.
11
El comercio exterior de bienes de capital en América Latina, 1986,288 pp.
12 América Latina: Indices de comercb exterior, 1970-1984,1987,355 pp.
13 América Latina: comercio exterior según la clasiñcación industrial internadonal uniforma de
todas las actividades económicas, 1987, Vol. I, 675 pp; Vol. II, 675 pp.
14
La distribución del ingreso en Colombia. Antecedentes estadísticos y características
socioeconómicas de los receptores, 1988,156 pp.
15 América Latina y el Caribe: series regionales de cuentas nacionales a precios constantes de
1980, 1991, 245 pp.
16 Origen y destino del comercio exterior de los países de la Asociación Latinoamericana de
Integración, 1991, 190 pp.
17 Comercio intrazonal de los países de la Asociación de Integración, según capíulos de la
dasifícación uniforme para el comercio internacional, revisión 2, 1992, 299 pp.
Estudios @ Informes d@ la C E P A L
1
Nicaragua: el impacto de la mutación política, 1981,2nd. ed. 1982,126 pp.
2
Perú 1968-1977: la política económica en un proceso de cambio global, 1981, 2nd. ed. 1982,
166 pp.
3
La industrialización de América Latina y la cooperación internadonal, 1981,170 pp. (Out of print;
will not be reprinted.)
4
Estilos de desarrollo, modernización y medio ambiente en la agricultura latinoamericana, 1981,
4th. ed. 1984,130 pp.
5
El desarrollo de América Latina en los años ochenta, 1981,2nd. ed. 1982,153 pp.
5
Latin American development In m
6
Proyecciones deldesarrolto latinoamericano en los años ochenta, 1981, 3rd. ed. 1985,98 pp.
6
Latir) American development projections tor th@ 1980s, 1982,2nd. ed. 1983,89 pp.
7
1980s, 1981,2nd. ed. 1982,134 pp.
Las relaciones económicas externas de América Latina en tos años ochenta, 1981, 2nd. ed.
1982,180 pp.
8
Integración y cooperación regionales en los años ochenta, 1982,2nd. ed. 1982,174 pp.
9
Estrategias de desarrollo sedoriaipara los años ochenta: industria y agricultura, 1981,2nd. ed.
1985,100 pp.
10 Dinámica delsubempleo en América Latina. PREALC, 1981,2nd. ed. 1985,101 pp.
11
Estilos de desarrollo de la industria manufacturera y medio ambiente en América Latina, 1982,
2nd. ed. 1984,178 pp.
12 fíeladones económicas de América Latina con los países miembros del "Consejo de Asistenda
Mutua Económica", 1982,154 pp.
13 Campesinado y desarrollo agrícola en Bolivia, 1982,175 pp.
14 El setíor externo: indicadores y aná/isis de sus fiuduaciones. El caso argentino, 1982, 2nd. ed.
1985,216 pp.
15
Ingeniería y consultaría en Brasil y el Grupo Andino, 1982, 320 pp.
16
Cinco estudios sobre la situación de la mujer en América Latina, 1982,2nd. ed. 1985,178 pp.
16 Five studies on the situation of women in Latin America, 1983,2nd. ed. 1984,188 pp.
17
Cuentas nacionales y produdo material en América Latina, 1982,129 pp.
18 El Unandamiento de las exportaciones en América Latina, 1983,212 pp.
19 Medkión del empleo y de los ingresos wraies, 1982,2nd. ed. 1983,173 pp.
19 Measurement oí employment and Income in rural areas, 1983,184 pp.
20
Efedos macroeconómicos de cambios en las barreras al comercio y al movimiento de capitales:
un modelo de simulación, 1982,68 pp.
21
La empresa pública en la economía: la experiencia argentina, 1982,2nd. ed. 1985,134 pp.
22 Las empresas transnacionales en la economía de Chile, 1974-1980,1983,178 pp.
23
La gestión y la informática en las empresas ferroviarias de América Latina y España, 1983,
195 pp.
24
Estableámiento de empresas de reparación y mantenimiento de contenedores en América
Latina y el Caribe, 1983,314 pp.
24
Establishing container repair and maintenance enterprises In Latin America and th»
Caribbean, 1983,236 pp.
25
Agua potable y saneamiento ambiental en América Latina, 1981-19901Drinking water supply
and sanitation In Latin America, 1981-1990 (bilingual), 1983,14 pp.
26
27
Los barreos transnacionales, el estado y el endeudamiento extemo en Bolivia, 1983,282 pp.
Política económica y procesos de desarrollo. La experiencia argentina entre 1976y1981,1983,
157 pp.
28
29
Estilos de desarrollo, energía y medio ambiente: un estudb de caso exploratorio, 1963,129 pp.
Empresas transnacionales en la industria de alimentos. El caso argentino: cereales y came,
1983,93 pp.
30
Indusüialización en Centroamérica, 1960-1980,1983,168 pp.
31
Dos estudios sobre empresas transnacionales en Brasil, 1983,141 pp.
32
La crisis económica internacional y su repercusión en América Latina, 1983,81 pp.
33
La agricultura campesina en sus relaciones con ta industria, 1984,120 pp.
34
Cooperaaon económica entre Brasil y el Grupo Andino: el caso de los minerales y metales no
ferrosos, 1983,148 pp.
35
La agricultura campesina y el mercado de alimentos: la dependencia extema y sus efectos en
una economía abierta, 1984,201 pp.
36
El capital extranjero en la economía peruana, 1984,178 pp.
37
Dos estudios sobre política arancelaria, 1984,96 pp.
38
Estabilización y liberalización económica en el Cono Sur, 1984,193 pp.
39
La agricultura campesina y el mercado de alimentos: el caso de Haití y el de la República
Dominicana, 1984,255 pp.
40
La industria siderúrgica latinoamericana: tendencias y potencial, 1984,280 pp.
41
La presencia de I as empresas transnacionales en la economía ecuatoriana, 1984, TI pp.
42
Precios, salarios y empleo en la Argentina: estadísticas económicas de corto plazo, 1984,
378 pp.
43
El desarrollo de la seguridad social en América Latina, 1985,348 pp.
44
Mariíet structure, fírm size and Brazilian exports, 1985,104 pp.
45
La planificación del transporte en países de América Latina, 1985,247 pp.
46
La crisis en América Latina: su evaluación y perspectivas, 1985,119 pp.
47
La juventud en América Latina y el Caribe, 1985,181 pp.
48
Desarrollo de los recursos mineros de América Latina, 1985,145 pp.
48
Development of the mining resources of Latin America, 1989,160 pp.
49
Las relaciones económicas internacionales de América Latina y la cooperación regional, 1985,
224 pp.
50
51
América Latina y la economía mundial del algodón, 1985,122 pp.
Comercio y cooperación entre países de América Latina y países miembros del CAME,
1985,90 pp.
52
Trade relations between Brazil and the United States, 1985,148 pp.
53
Los recursos hídricos de América Latina y el Caribe y su aprovechamiento, 1985,138 pp.
53
The water resources oí Latin America and the Caribbean and their utilization, 1985,
135 pp.
54
La pobreza en América Latina: dimensiones y políticas, 1985,155 pp.
55
Políticas de promoción de exportaciones en algunos países de América Latina, 1985,207 pp.
56 Las empresas transnadonales en la Argentina, 1986,222 pp.
57 B desarrollo fnitkola y forestal en Chile y sus derivaciones sedales, 1986,227 pp.
58 El cultivo del algodón y la soya en el Paraguay y sus derivadones soda/es, 1986,141 pp.
59 Expansión del cultivo de la caña de azúcar y de la ganadería en el nordeste del Brasil: un
examen del papel de la polítta pública y de sus derivaciones económicas y sedales,
164 pp.
60 Las empresas transnacionales en el desarrollo colombiano, 1986,212 pp.
61 Las empresas transnadonales en la economía del Paraguay, 1987,115 pp.
62 Problemas de la industria latinoamericana en la fáse crítica. 1986,113 pp,
63 Reladones económicas internacionales y cooperación regional de América Latina y el Csrlbs,
1987, 272 pp.
63 Internatíonal economic relations and regional co-operation In Latin America and the
Caribbean, 1987, 267 pp.
64 Tres ensayos sobre ¡nfladón y poiñicas de estabilización, 1986,201 pp.
65 La industria farmacéutica y farmoquímica: desarrollo histórico y posibilidades futuras. Argentina,
Brasil y México, 1987,177 pp.
66 Dos estudios sobre América Latina y el Caribe y la economía intemadonal, 1987,125 pp.
67 Reestructuradón de la industria automotriz mundial y perspectivas para América Latina,
1987, 232 pp.
68 Cooperación latinoamericana en servictos: antecedentes y perspecSvas, 1988,155 pp.
69 Desarrollo y transformación: estrategia para superar la pobreza, 1988,114 pp.
69 Development and change: strategies for vanquishing poverty, 1988,114 pp.
70
70
71
72
72
La evolución económica del Japón y su impacto en América Latina, 1988,88 pp.
The economic evolution of Japan and its impact on Latin America, 1990,79 pp.
La gestión de los recursos hídricos en América Latina y el Caribe, 1989,256 pp.
La evolución del problerria de la deuda externa en América Latina y el Caribe, 1988,77 pp.
The evolution of the external debt problem In Latin America and the Caribbean,
1988,69 pp.
73 Agricultura, comercio exterior y cooperación internacional, 1988,83 pp.
73 Agriculture, external trade and International co-operation, 1989,79 pp.
74 Reestructuradón industrial y cambio tecnológico: consecuendas para América Latina, 1989,
105 pp.
75 El medio ambiente como factor de desarrollo, 1989,2nd. ed. 1991,123 pp.
76 El comportamiento de los bancos transnacionales y la crisis internatíonal de endeudamiento,
1989, 214 pp.
76 Transnational bank behaviour and the International debt crisis, 1989,198pp.
77
Los recursos hídricos de América Latina y del Caribe: planificadón, desastres naturales y
contaminación, 1990, 266 pp.
77 The water resources of Latín America and the Caribbean • Planning fíazarda md
pollution, 1990, 252 pp.
78
La apertura financiera en Chile y el comportamiento de bs bancos transnadonales, 1990,
132 pp.
79 La industria de bienes de capital en América Latina y el Caribe: su desarrollo en un marco de
cooperación regional, 1991, 235 pp.
80
Impacto ambiental de la contaminación hídrica producida por la Refinería Estatíú Esmeraldas:
análisis técnico-económico, 1991,189 pp.
81
Magnitud de la pobreza en América Latina en los años ocftenía, 1991, 177 pp.
82 América Latina y el Caribe: el manejo de la escasez de agua. 1991, 148 pp.
83
Reestructuradón y desarrollo de la Industria automotriz meidcana en los años ochenta:
evoluciónyperspectívas,199Z191 pp.
85 Inversión extranjera y empresas transnacionales en la economía de Chile (1974-1989).
Proyecto de inversión y extrategias de las empresas transnacionales, 1992,257 pp.
86
Inversión extranjera y empresas transnacionales en la economía de Chile (1974-1989).
El papel del capital extranjero y la estrategia nacional de desarrollo, 1992, 163 pp.
Serié INFOPLAN: Temas Especiales del Desarrollo
1 Resúmenes de documentos sobre deuda extema, 1986,324 pp.
2 Resúmenes de documentos sobre cooperación entre pases en desarrollo, 1986,189 pp.
3 Resúmenes de documentos sobre recursos hidricos, 1987,290 pp.
4 Resúmenes de documentos sobre planificación y medt ambiente ^\987,^\^^ pp.
5 Resúmenes de documentos sobre integración económica en América Latina y el Caribe, 1987,
273 pp.
6
Resúmenes de documentos sobre cooperación entre países en desarrollo, II parte, 1988,
146 pp.
7 Documentos sobre privatización con énfasis en América Latina, 1991, 82 pp.
8 Reseñas de documentos sobre desarrollo ambientalmente sustentable, 1992,217 pp.
w. J.U
^XJI > w»
• flUi1
iu-Jl
J» J ^ l v /
^^ f ijJi 1!>> ^ i--—11 r'^i
jU J^I
nn^fieig'Illdiis^
HOW T O O B T A I N U N I T E D N A T I O N S P U B L I C A T I O N S
Uniled Nallons p u b l i c a t i o n s may b e o b t a i n e d t r o m b o o k s t o t e i and d i s t t i b u l o t s
t h r o u g h o u t the world. Consult y o u r b o o k s t o r e or write t o : United Nations, Sales
Section, New York or Geneva.
C O M M E N T S E P R O C U R E R LES P U B L I C A T I O N S DES N A T I O N S U N I E S
Les p u b l i c a t i o n s des N a t i o n s Unies sont en vente d a n s les líbrairies et les agences
dépositaires du m o n d e entier. Informez-vous a u p r e s de votie libraire ou adrcssez-vous
á : N a t i o n s Unies, Section des ventes. New York ou Geneve.
KAK n O n y l H T b HSAAHHfl O P r A H H 3 A U H H O B - b E ü H H E H H M X M A U H R
Hs/iaHHn OpraHHoauHH O0i>e;iHHeHHbix HauMñ motkho K y n n r b b KHHxtHbix Mar&3HHax H areHTCTBax BO B c t x paAoHBX MHpa. HaBOflHTe cnpaBKH o6 HSAaHHRX B
BaiueM KHHXtHoM Mara3HHe h/ih nMUjHTe no a ; i p e c y : OpraHHaaUHfi 06i>eAHHeHHblx
HauHfl, CeKUHH no npo^aJKe Ha^iaHHñ, Hbto-HopK hhh >KeHeBa.
COMO C O N S E G U I R P U B L I C A C I O N E S D E LAS N A C I O N E S U N I D A S
Las publicaciones d e las Naciones Unidas están en venta en libterías y casas
d i s t r i b u i d o r a s en t o d a s p a r t e s del m u n d o . C o n s u l t e a su librero o diríjase a: Naciones
Unidas, Sección de Ventas, Nueva York o Ginebra.
P u b l i c a t i o n s of t h e E c o n o m i c Comnnission for Latin A m e r i c a a n d t h e C a r i b b e a n (ECLAC) a n d t h o s e of
t h e Latin A m e r i c a n a n d t h e C a r i b b e a n I n s t i t u t e for E c o n o m i c a n d Social P l a n n i n g (ILPES) c a n b e
o r d e r e d f r o m y o u r local distributor or directly t h r o u g h
United N a t i o n s P u b l i c a t i o n s
Sales Section, — DC-2-866
N e w York, NY, 1 0 0 1 7
USA
Uniied N a t i o n s P u b l i c a t i o n s
Sales Section
Palais d e s Nations
1 2 1 1 G e n e v e 10, S w i t z e r l a n d
Distribution Unit
CEPAL - Casilla 1 7 9 - D
S a n t i a g o , Chile
^
-
-
'
' i; . ''/ v t " , , *
^ ^ / O . . > ' . , . 4 ,
í
(y/,'/'
• - "
-i,,
'
/
.
'
MW,
''
-i-
'
''
,
•